9am – 12noon: Managing children as per usual

12noon – 1pm: Lunch time

1pm – 2pm: Getting to Mediacorp

2pm – 2:30pm: Final touch up

2:30pm – 3:30pm: Warm up, Briefing

3:30pm – 7pm: Recording for Let’s Talk Season 3《你在囧什么？》第3系列

It was a privilege that I represented CHAT to participate in the recording for the 3^rd series of a popular Channel U talkshow, Let’s Talk Season 3《你在囧什么？》第3系列.

I have been to recording sitcoms before, as part of the audience. This time, my involvement is as a Youth Support Worker, joined by NUS senior counselor Low Teck Keong and FM93.3 DJ Xiao Jia Hui (萧嘉蕙), to take on a panel discussion with young people on the topic of Youth Depression.

The topic is familiar, as I’ve trained students in tertiary institutions about Depression, its warning signs, and how to help a friend in need. But the setting was the first of its kind. I do not think I have an anxiety disorder, but like most people, I can have my fair share of stage fright. Frankly speaking, I was nervous, and felt overwhelmed with responsibility, as my appearance in the show was also to represent CHAT, and highlight to viewers on how CHAT can be a resource for young people in distressed with mental health concerns. All these, I have to convey in Mandarin. Some time before the actual recording, I began to doubt my fluency level in the Chinese language.

So, what helped me got through the entire recording?

1. The hosts of this talkshow. Popular Mediacorp artiste Li Teng (李腾) and FM93.3 DJ Lim Peifen (林佩芬) were such good hosts and facilitators throughout. (Lame) Jokes were made (mostly by Li Teng), which helped to break the awkwardness (sometimes silence) at the setting and ensured a light-hearted approach towards a serious topic like Youth Depression.
2. Courage from the panel of young participants, in sharing their personal stories of Youth Depression, not just towards the people in the recording, but in front of the cameras where they knew it would be later broadcasted to a greater mass of audience. It is this courage that impressed upon me, to look beyond my own consciousness, and focus on my role as a youth support worker in the talkshow.

Through small talks with the production team, I've learned that a total of 300 young people with mental health concerns had came to audition to be part of this 13-episode talkshow about youth mental health. They all came with the same mindset: to be part of an attempt to raise awareness of youth mental health, by sharing their personal stories and thoughts.

These are young people who have one thing in common: They are not (at all) afraid to break (or burst) the silence associated with mental health.

Question: So, what makes a young person develop Depression?

Common belief is that affected persons have weakness in personality or lack of willpower. Truth is: a myriad of factors contribute to the development of Depression: genetic factors, environmental factors such as stress, poor coping, traumatic life experiences, relationship issues, academic demands, financial strains…

Catch the upcoming episode of Let’s Talk Season 3《你在囧什么？》第3系列this Sunday, 4 November 2012, 7:30pm-8:30pm Channel U, and you will get to meet 25 young and brave souls. While I hope that you learn, through their personal stories, that every young person’s experience with Depression is contributed by factors that are unique to each and every individual challenged by this common youth mental health illness, I also hope for you to take away something from the talkshow that will be helpful to you or someone you know in times of difficulty.

During the early days of my joining as a case manager in the Early Psychosis Intervention Programme, I had often heard my senior talked about the movie ‘A Beautiful Mind.’ She had almost always made reference to it whenever she tried to explain the technical terms used in the field of psychosis. During our early caregiver workshops, she would also play snippets of the movie as attempts to enhance caregivers’ understanding of the illness.

Five years into my work, after having advanced from early intervention for psychosis to currently advocating early help-seeking behavior for youth mental health concerns at large, I feel proud, yet sheepish at the same time, to share that I finally commit myself to watching this movie recently.

I didn’t regret waiting this long to watch the movie, because I believe the take-home message for me would have been totally different. Indeed, ‘A Beautiful Mind’ illustrates symptoms of paranoid psychosis well. The difference, now that I’ve watched it at this point in my life, is that I appreciated the movie beyond just recognizing signs of psychosis. I was able to appreciate the different important factors that made up the vulnerability of Dr John Nash to this illness called ‘Psychosis,’ as well as the crucial factors that explained his ability to sustain good level of functioning despite the distress that the illness was causing him and his family and his struggle (perhaps, even overt refusal) with treatment.

Treatment was rather limited during the period where Dr Nash had struggled with the illness. [Seriously, insulin shock therapy?! Thanks to research, people are better informed and have stopped this form of treatment now.] But he was blessed with a supportive wife and friends who stood by him and encouraged his engagement with activities on a daily basis. Still, Dr Nash would not have gained a better chance in his battle with psychosis if it wasn’t for his perseverance to want to be a functional person, both to his family and his dreams, again.

It is his perseverance that inspires me deeply. Similar to Dr Nash, I too, had a past that bothered me sometimes, especially on bad days.

His story gave me a sense of hope for my innermost fears.

 People who do not choose to live…they tend to die easily.

Yet not everyone who chooses to live gets to live.

But if they don’t even make that choice to live…they don’t stand a chance.

This knowledge of life belongs to Yishai Shalif, a senior School Psychologist and a narrative therapist. He directs the School Psychological Services in Modiin Ilit, Israel, and is co-director of Qesem Center. He teaches narrative ideas and their different applications, and has a private practice in Jerusalem where he lives. He was my trainer in Narrative Therapy in Responding to Trauma.

While he had made the above observations through his contact with people (both children and adults) who were trauma victims of terrorist attacks and war, I can see its applications in settings beyond terrorism and war.  

I resonated with his first observation because of personal encounters with such people. I felt sad with his second observation because it reminded me of some people whom I knew. I felt shocked with his third observation, even though it was possibly an elaboration of his first observation.

“Do I have a choice?” – is a common statement that I hear from young people struggling to accept their newly diagnosed mental illness.

Even for myself who has yet to be diagnosed by anyone to be having any mental illness. When I think of my difficult times, I realized there were countless such situations where I had made a similar statement to myself too – Do I have a choice?

Now as I recalled back to those times, I realized I did.

Which made me wonder – how many of us, in times of difficult situations, or situations where we had perceived to be difficult, are able to realize that regardless of the difficulty, we have choices? Even if it means making a choice to get out of that difficult situation, that I thought, is a powerful choice made.

I am currently working with a young girl who, despite her age, had already been through many difficult situations – abuse, separation, moving from one place to another, and recently, being diagnosed with Schizophrenia. Making ends meet was and may continue to be a daily affair for her. What amazes me is that even till now, I am not getting any hints from her that she plans to give up. Not yet.

Young girl: “I felt God at night… He was trying to take me away… But I didn’t want to go..”

Me: “What stopped you from going with God?”

Young girl: “I still want to challenge life.”

I didn’t dignify the statement with a response and stared blankly ahead, stubbornly blinking back tears and wishing I had not told him that I’d been finding life meaningless.

Suicide.

I tend to think everyone at some point considers it. But then it’s one of those things I can’t actually go around checking with others to prove it right, right? Talk about awkward conversational moments.

The first time I wanted to end my life, I was in primary school and no more than 10 years old. I find it incredulous now when I look back on it, but it was over Chinese classes. Yes, that’s all it was. Something so seemingly insignificant caused a little girl to want to choose death.

I didn’t have a plan set out (my brain probably wasn’t even well-developed enough then to formulate one anyways! Hoho) but I remember shutting my blinds, sitting cross-legged on the parquet floor, my scrawny little body shaking with sobs as I penned a goodbye letter to the world.

Can you imagine the headlines? Girl dies from fear of learning Chinese.  *Palmface*

I never finished the letter and crumpled it up before curling into a ball myself.

Sometimes I wonder…if I back then, with not much pressure from my parents, already felt so cornered that I contemplated suicide, how much harder students these days must have it with school.

Fast forward 14 years to the second time I saw no value in my life.

I was 8 months into an emotionally abusive relationship, clinging on only because everyone said how good I was for him. Ooh ok, and also maybe slightly because he was over 6ft tall, with broad shoulders, blond hair, blue eyes, and a wicked smile. So he was cute. But it was largely the savior complex in me, loving that I was making him a better man.

We were from vastly different backgrounds and people often would ask him, “why is a girl like that with a guy like you?” And they asked this not even knowing the ugly side of our relationship. Like the time we had an argument and he drove recklessly in his sports car screaming that he’d crash it with me inside, or the time he rounded up his mates with baseball bats to hunt down the male friend who’d driven over at 3am to come get me after a particularly bad night. I have a whole bag of other terrible stories like that, each more shocking than the next. But I’d talk him through all these outbursts and we slowly made small but significant changes in his life.

It was all at my own expense though and the more I gave to him, the more I lost myself. I reached a low where I felt like an empty shell. I didn’t know who I was anymore, and I was so extremely tired. I believed I was worthless.

Like the little girl all those years ago, I sat cross-legged on another parquet floor, hot tears streaming down my face. I looked up at him as he walked into the room, rubbing a towel through his hair, and I told him how I was feeling, about the desperate emptiness before me.

"I feel like I want to die..."

He stared at me for a second then coldly informed me, “pack your bags, I’m taking you home.”

And that’s where we get to that moment in his car, being mocked for being a psych grad who’s messed up in the head. It was in that moment that the steely determination to get past this set in and I embarked on different journeys to heal and to create purpose in my life. It ranged from something as simple as riding my bike out to have tea with a girlfriend who I’d neglected since I got into that relationship, to flying halfway around the world with a backpack for 6 months.

The change doesn’t come about overnight. It’s taken (and still is taking) a concerted effort on my part to make my life worth living. 

I have a tattoo that says “Live and die this way”, lines from my favourite Tracy Chapman song. Interestingly, I rightfully should associate that song with him and his “Fast Car” since we used to blast the song and sing loudly along to it while the scenery rushed by in a blur. Also, in the song, those words have a negative meaning for the protagonist. Yet for some strange, wonderful reason, I always chose the alternative interpretation of - it is up to me to live my life in such a way that if I die today, I’m proud to have lived and died in this way.

I will not let external things (eg. my studies) or people (eg. my ex) result in the conclusion of my life. This is my story, I’m worth more than that ending.

When depressed, it’s easy to feel disconnected with humanity, to wallow in the self-sabotaging conviction that no one else knows how you feel, that your agony is incurable. Perhaps next time, if it helps, remember me – the girl who’s supposed to have a good head on her shoulders, who’s a psychology graduate, who also isn’t immune from suicidal thoughts. Then look around at the people to your left and to your right, and consider that they are probably struggling with deep, painful issues as well.

I hope that at the very least, you will feel less alone.

as though no one is watching

LOVE

as though you've never been hurt

SING

as though no one can hear you

LIVE

as though Heaven is on Earth. - Souza   

Came across this quote and felt it was quite interesting. Many a times, we live within the confines of our world, restricting ourselves from expressing openly. Perhaps, today I will take the leap of faith and start to dance, love, sing and more importantly, live as though Heaven is on Earth for happiness is a journey and not a destination.  

What about you?

Do share any meaningful quotes that you may have chanced upon.

A few years ago, a colleague of mine had shown me a website that had left me feeling disturbed and somewhat shaken. The website was supposedly a photo journal of a youth aged 26 years old, named “Wu Xiao Kang” who was afflicted with schizophrenia, where he had taken the laborious effort to capture haunting snippets of his journey through a debilitated mental hospital and the ascent up the building to his final fall from the building. The images with its simple and well composed depiction of inanimate objects of the door railings, pharmacy counter, stairwell, broken window panes and parts of a building long forgotten contrasted against a blue sky can leave behind such a profound impression.

The photo images taken along with the photo descriptions still leave me speechless as I think about them from time to time.

Recently, whilst preparing for an upcoming t-shirt competition to raise awareness to suicide and self-harm, memories of the photo images taken by Xiao Kang came to mind. I wanted to find a way to showcase the artwork and decided to check out the pictures again. I asked my colleague for the web address. However, the website, A Dose Of Light (http://adoseoflight.com/overdose/xiaokang.html), no longer exists and the photos seem to have vanished from cyberspace.

Searches online of the words Xiao Kang, photography and suicide led me to a local photography community which unveiled - to my utter disbelief - that the story behind these images was actually concocted and a hoax (as revealed in Straits Times, Monday July 2nd 2007, Life! Section, page 7). Following the initial sense of betrayal and disappointment, I composed my thoughts.

After thoughts

True, the photographers (a collective group of 3) may have misled the community into believing the authenticity of the story behind their photographs. It may have tugged at our heart-strings to feel for a fictional character. But the sense of loneliness and despair is something that each of us feel. For if one did not have the ability to empathise, we would not have been able to relate to story through eerie pictures.

Though I do not deny that the photographers had played a fool of the audience and believe that this was an exaggeration of what could be. But sometimes, suspension of disbelief is necessary to help us learn to appreciate those images, moments, thoughts or people that we may have taken for granted. We may never know what and how it is like to view the world through the lenses of another person afflicted with schizophrenia or on the verge of suicide. But I do believe, that we should not be too quick to condemn any form of art or expression that seeks to bring greater awareness to something as taboo a topic as that of suicide or mental illness. Of course, honesty and disclosure should always be upheld even if it is a fictional depiction or based on anecdotal accounts.

As the website has been removed along with any remaining images, the only images I came across to resemble that of Xiao Kang's were from Abandoned Asylum, http://www.pbase.com/synapseman/view_road_hospital , please view the photos and be your own judge as you imagine yourself being transposed into the fictional character of Xiao Kang. 

It amazes me that we know so little about emotions. We tend to shy away from negative feelings, dislike it so much that we battle against it or try to ignore them. Most people I know are ill at ease with emotions of sadness and do not know how to handle it when they see it being displayed. We feel awkward around someone who is sad, or sometimes become hard-hit with heaviness at the pain expressed.

I was confronted with this reality during a discussion that took place when we were in midst of developing training materials on the topic of depression. Concerns were brought up about getting participants to relive sad memories. They were well-intended concerns set to safeguard participants, in order not to let them go away feeling unregulated in their emotions.

Could such concerns be misinformed?

In trying to justify why we should not shun away from recapturing sad memories and naming it, I have borrowed heavily the ideas from an eminent psychologist, Dr Leslie Greenberg, who has played a major role in developing Emotion-Focused Therapy.

• Sadness and any other feelings; be it negative or positive are all part of normal human experience. Is there anything wrong to experience grief as a form of reaction to our situations like breakups, failures, death etc? If there isn’t, what is stopping us from expressing it? Shunning these emotions does not take these difficult situations away.

• Emotions provide information. How are we to obtain information without acknowledging our emotions? The use of language by putting words into our inner states is the first step towards greater understanding of ourselves and why we may be feeling what we are experiencing. New information can then guide us into action. In expressing grief, it allows us to understand that someone we lost was important to us and possibly lead us to cherish the other people around us.

• Experiencing emotions is part of a process and does not indicate that it is a permanent state. It is not a concluded truth. Being sad when we re-live painful memories does not mean that we will get stuck with the feeling all the time. 
  

• As Dr Leslie Greenberg nicely puts: “You need to arrive at a feeling before leaving it”. How many of us, in avoiding pain by sealing our bad memories find that we are hit by the twinges and pangs of sorrow at unexpected times. It seems almost cruel to force a person to revisit bad memories, only that through constructive re-visiting can we address the grief and move on.

• By moving on from sadness to another emotion state, we also learn to regulate our emotions and be confident that negative emotions can transit. This can be achieved through the use of self-soothing strategies that looks at evoking compassion for ourselves, or even relaxation techniques that anyone can practice.

I really do not believe that expressing sad emotions will destroy a person. Naming is the first step in regulation because speaking about it does not mean that we act on it.  Saying “I feel sad” or “I feel worthless” does not mean that “I have depression” or “I am worthless”. By reprocessing the emotions, it gives information, separates the feeling from the person and strengthens the belief they can do something, or see a new perspective. It may even help one to establish a sense of control.

To be fair, just expressing sadness on its own may do no good unless there is a trained facilitator. I can also understand that there is a fear of opening up fresh wounds in more vulnerable individuals who may have experienced trauma.

I also recognise that although I can cognitively understand the importance of facing my feelings, I find myself sometimes unconsciously doing things to avoid being subjected to sadness or longing-ness. When I am away abroad and missing my family, I made it a point to avoid looking at their pictures, lest I find the emotions unbearable. I guess, we all gravitate away from pain as protection for ourselves.

 This is also reflected in the numerous campaigns that focus on positivity and thinking happy thoughts. Of course, such campaigns are definitely meaningful. Though I would want to add on that it is perfectly fine to think sad thoughts. Maybe that in itself is a happy thought?

We ended the discussion to further think about how we can recapture feelings of sadness and at the same time to make it safe and protected for all participants. So if you do join in some of the experiential activities that CHAT does in our training, be sure that you will have a positive experience even while experiencing the blues!

April 11. I didn't go to work. I was down with Hand Foot Mouth Disease, together with my kids for the past one week.

I was on my way with my child for a medical follow-up when I saw my neighbour lying unconscious on the floor of the opposite block. There was a man supporting him in a half seated position. I gestured to that man to see if he might need additional help.

The man said, "I've already called the ambulance. They are on their way."

I shouted back, "He's my neighbour."

He replied, with some relief, "Oh good! Can you please inform his family to come down? The ambulance will be here any minute. He was standing there alright, and had suddenly collapsed. Could be a stroke."

Two minutes passed.

We made our way back and informed my neighbour's wife, whom had then quickly ran to where her husband was found unconscious.

Five minutes passed.

It wasn't until another good five minutes that we finally saw the ambulance slowly making its way into the carpark, and the paramedics then came on to give medical support.

That's when I decided to leave with my child for our own medical follow-up with the family doctor.

The morning went on as usual - I got busy with my childcare. But I kept thinking about my neighbour. We've been neighbours for about two years, but we've never spoken to one another, except for one occasion when my husband had said, "hello," but was ignored instead. With this incident, I was looking forward for an improved relationship with our neighbour.

3:15pm. I realised my neighbour had passed on. When I walked past his house unit, there were many visitors and people from the funeral parlour were already busy preparing for his wake downstairs. 

Shock would be a good word to describe my state of mind when I came to know about my neighbour's demise. Disbelief too. I checked and checked again for the signs that a typical Chinese family would do to symbolise that the family is mourning for a member's demise. All the signs that I knew of were there.

Sadness. Disbelief still. We were taking the same lift just the day before. He was looking alright. His demise was just too sudden. It's almost like, "Now I see you, now I don't."

Guilt? Anger? Disbelief again. Many thoughts ran through my mind. Could I have done something more than just to inform his family? Why can't I remember my steps for CPR? I had even wanted to offer to drive him to the hospital when there was no sight of the ambulance in the morning. How are the family members coping with his demise? Why am I feeling so disturbed? Am I grieving? I hardly know him!

I made a call to my parents. Perhaps I had wanted to find more people to talk about it to make myself feel better. Perhaps I was afraid I might suddenly lose them too.

Life is so precious, so unpredictable, so fragile. I thought I knew that all along, even more so with the news updating about Japan's triple disaster everyday. But I think I was hit the hardest through my neighbour's demise.

It’s been a learning journey as I had initial simplistic notions of eating disorders. I knew what differentiates bulimia and anorexic but I was far from understanding why a person will want to go through that.

For me, weight concerns centred most of my growing up years into my adulthood. However, unlike most people, my struggle was the opposite. I yearned to put on weight, but simply can't. 

Don’t hate me for that, because I felt like I had suffered.

I disliked eating, and had problems finishing my food. My mother used to scold me “你要做仙呀？” (Literal translation – “Are you going to be an immortal?”) I didn’t understand why others can enjoy food and always felt bloated. I was often the last to complete my food and once even missed the mass teeth-brushing activity that we used to do after recess, in my bid to finish up strand after strand of the noodles. The lack of enjoyment in eating was nothing compared to the reactions that I got from others.

“Ee…. So skinny! Why you never eat huh?”

 I think people in general are never sensitive enough when they meet someone of a smaller frame, as compared to someone bigger-sized. Somehow, we tend to be more careful with our words around people who are overweight. Is it because of our pro-slim culture that we have no qualms about saying how skinny someone is, not considering that it can also damage a person’s self-image?

I have passed that stage of not being comfortable in my own skin; metabolism rate has reduced with age and somehow, I now live to eat, not just eat to live. My past has affected how I perceived eating disorders though.

I always thought that anorexia or bulimia is a choice one makes as a result of misperceiving one’s body image and wanting to look good. Yet, after reading and watching videos about the ordeal of sufferers, it seems like the illness had taken control over them. They can’t help but not eat even while they are aware of the devastation that they have caused to their bodies. They know they don’t look good, yet it’s beyond their choice to do what they do. I am definitely more sympathetic to the predicament that they are in.

I also wondered where is the line between being careful with what you eat to control’s one’s weight and overdoing it? Is it contradictory for me to encourage the patients I work with to live a healthy lifestyle and exercise adequately in order to manage their weight given the weight side effects of some medications?

Recently, I had a chance encounter with someone who is proud to list the achievement of having lost more than 40kg of weight over a few months and sees it as a positive transformation in life. Alarm bells started ringing in my head. The person doesn’t seem to see that it may become a major health issue. Yet, who am I to decide or to brand a person based on a 10-minute conversation? Even if so, how do I actually raise the person’s awareness when s/he may not be ready to listen to my message?

Guess what? I highlighted the CHAT website. Of course it's not going to work magic but hopefully, it may act as a resource of information in times of need. Having said, I hope the person I met will achieve confidence, because size, I realised, doesn't correlate with our esteem.

 It is much more difficult to accept and love oneself as who you are.

To me, the thought of home is being in the company of my family and close friends. Yet, due to other commitments in our lives, e.g. work, education, personal aspirations or newfound relationships we have come to see ourselves become separated. Though separated from us by the vast oceans and continents, advances in technology have somewhat brought us closer. We rely upon Facebook, MSN, Skype to chat with one another and to keep abreast of the happenings. For some, blogging about our lives lend others to peek into our private lives. However, everything pales in comparison to the gentle pat on the back, hugs and listening ear of your loved ones. So, often do we take our families and loved ones for granted, perhaps because we know that they are just within reach.

In recent years, moments where I am faced with problems, the people I would turn to are that of my family. However, this has not always been the case… and for that I feel a tinge of guilt. I used to think that it would be so wonderful if I lived on an island all by myself, without the care for the world and people around me. I dread having to make small talk or conversations with people for it means that I would have to share something personal and at times to even deal with conflicts.

However, my perception has changed, as I get older with age. I would like to think that it is wisdom through maturity or at least the opportunity to learn from my clients and their families. Recently, my sister moved back from overseas and moved in stay with me. Her presence at my home has been a refreshing change for the house that used to be quiet whenever I returned home from work is now filled with much bustling energy. In the past, I would find myself heading out to chill with my friends or just huddled up on the couch watching my TV shows. But now, things have changed. I look forward to heading home to my loved ones for I can hear about their day. I guess the concept of home differs for different people but in essence it revolves being around people you care about and hold dear to, having that sense of belonging and being able to show your vulnerable side without being judged.

For those who think that they are alone in this world, this may seem a scary thought but truth is there is someone who cares about you. Someone who is willing to listen to your cries for help… and most times, it could be your family, friends or loved ones.

Much as I like the local piece of ‘Home’ another track of the same title that brings much nostalgia and warmth to my heart is that by Michael Bublé and Blake Shelton. Below music video is dedicated to my friends and my big sister who are far away from home.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kkoT1nZOexY

To put it behind me, I escaped to Chinatown for foot reflexology, sipping Koi bubble tea between uncontrollable bouts of girlish giggling with my best friend. I am forever thankful that I have her - so completely unlike me, yet unreserved and accepting of me. It's wonderful to have a friend you can say anything to, who will not be uncomfortable by my tendency towards self-disclosure. The skillful easing of the knots in my shoulders did the trick and I slept like a child that night.

I woke up today feeling the best I’ve felt in the past 2 weeks since returning to Singapore. You wouldn’t expect that the day after The Event, but I did! And I believe that good feelings attract more good feelings. So I bounced outta bed, received a lovely email from my ex-boss who’s been worried about me coping in the current job, and boarded my bus only to run into my favourite ex-colleagues from my 1^st job. Those two girls are the coolest, funniest people I know here and I couldn’t ask for a better start to my day.

See? Positive thoughts attract more of the same :)

I fully expect an official complaint filed against me by that family. But you know what, I'm not scared. I care about my patients, I do the best I can, and I think I’m not too shabby at my job. Like the entry in the 6 words memoir by colossus said, nothing is gonna keep me down!

I hated seeing myself in the mirror, but would always be compelled to do so. I needed to scrutinize my puffy, round face and my stumpy legs. It’s as if the more I hated my face and body, the more I needed to look at them.

I hated myself for not having the discipline to resist the temptation of the sweet aroma of food. Hated the fact that food tastes so good. (I’ve never tried starving myself, however. I love the feeling of a full stomach too much, to leave it empty.)

I loved fashion magazines. I would spend hours looking at models and memorizing their names. I envied their long, lean body. I envied their strong jaw line. I wanted to be them.

Gradually, and fortunately, more important things such as relationship and work started taking precedence over my life. I’m much less critical of myself and am more open to accepting compliments from my loved ones. I find Katy Perry, Queen Latifah, and Halle Berry really sexy and those models that I used to obsessed over, to look too much like young boys.

I still find myself struggling once in awhile. I’m quite ambivalent about putting on pounds on my body. Even though, I’d love to be more curvaceous, I can’t help but feel quite uncomfortable when I feel that I’ve gained some weight. I still jiggle my thighs occasionally, and I still hate the feeling of tight-fitting clothes. That said, I am confident that I will gradually grow more comfortable in my skin and accept every flaw as a marker for who I am.

I have recently become addicted to this game on my iPhone, called Tiny Chef. The game in itself is pretty self-explanatory. As a chef of a restaurant, you sieve through the menus of a few different cookbooks (which are updated regularly with new dishes) in search of a dish that you would like to prepare and serve up to your customers. The dishes are prepared in real-time and you get to see the graphics change, as the dishes are prepared.

My fascination with such cooking games may be a reflection of my cultural background. As a Singaporean, our national fascination with food has been given much publicity! I love cooking programmes ranging from Masterchef to that of Hell’s Kitchen. Looking at the potential chefs whip up the creative dishes with such finesse makes my mouth water. (Not to mention the recent junior masterchef in Australia are simply awesome!) It does not help that I grew up in a family where our lives revolved around food.  We would talk about what we are going to have for lunch when we are having breakfast, dinner when we are having lunch and the next meal outing when we are having dinner. The cycle repeats itself and I was simply in bliss each night I head off to dreamland…for there are moments where I will see this colourful world filled with lollies. I love sharing good eating spots with family and friends.

       So it is a little surprising when I learnt that there are people who did not enjoy food as much as I do. Perhaps, having myself as a benchmark may not be a fair comparison. Judging from my above entry, it is not hard to have an image conjured up in ones’ mind that I am this portly and overweight person that sits in front of the computer with an oily chicken clamped between his teeth, drumming away on the keyboard. However, not to enjoy food that is so essential to our livelihood is akin to saying no to breathing. I do admit that this analogy may seem somewhat extreme and warped.

But it is not surprising that for some, the words "food", "feast" is automatically associated with another F-word… “FAT”! A friend whom I met up with recently over dinner declared that she was not going to eat, not even a bowl of rice, as she will get fat. Increasingly, there is a trend toward dieting behaviour amongst youths. Oftentimes, it is triggered by comments and teasing from others about weight. I remember the times where I had returned to Singapore for holidays and the first greeting I get from my cousin was a remark over my appearance and she would slide her hand over to my waist to nudge it ever so gently. The incident left me somewhat marred for life for I would become uptight and conscious whenever I hear remarks from about me having gained weight. At that age (I was 16-17 years old), one is easily susceptible to the feedback from others.

An 8-year retrospective study (Lee, Lee, Pathy and Chan 2005) that looked at the clinical representation of individuals with anorexia nervosa in Singapore identified that majority of individuals were female students with a mean age of 17.6 years. This profile is very much similar to that reported in western literature. Moreover, it is a period where youths are subjected to an influx of societal pressures from commercials, print media and TV programmes that seem to promote beauty through being thin or “thin is beautiful”. Interestingly, there is also an increase trend in males seeking to be thin. A popular Singapore online blogger, Fauzi Rassull had promoted through his blog of dietary intake of two meals a day, consisting of bread, instant noodles and salad. He had even set up a Facebook group that was 900 members strong titled “Get Thin or Die Trying” which was eventually removed by the site administrators.

I am glad that I did not succumb to the multitude of feedback from my Singaporean cousins, for if I had, I would have missed out on all the good food and even have run the risk of developing an eating disorder. I am comfortable with my appearance and have a healthy BMI. More importantly, I lead a healthy lifestyle balanced with good eating habits.

References

Lee, H. Y., Lee, E. L., Pathy, P., & Chan, Y. H. (2005). Anorexia nervosa in Singapore: an eight-year retrospective study. Singapore Medical Journal, 46(6), 275-281.

 When I got home and checked my emails, there was a new one from a friend who'd returned to France early last year. He described me as "intense" in it. Intense! Hmmm...I think the people around me these days would go more with "emo". *smacks forehead*. Nah, I don't think they're the same thing...quite a very fine, but considerable distinction between those two descriptions. I'm tired of being known as emo -___-" (maybe I should start by cutting down on the frequency of which I use that "miserable face" emoticon hahaha).

Also like me, this friend had a love-hate relationship with Singapore. One of the things he said was, "I felt oppressed and stressed in SGP and here i have the feeling that im more free! I can easily escape from my daily life." He also had photos to prove his freedom.

 Maybe that's it. I just need to find my escape. Some find it in the ocean, in cooking, in running, in a partner. In the past my escape always involved planning a backpacking trip. If it's worked before, why wouldn't it work again! Hmmm. Time to start thinking, dreaming....but first I need to start with curbing the material girl that's emerged in the past year. No more foolish Ferragamo shoes or $260 plain black dresses for you, young lady!

PHEW.

I feel a little more energized already. The power of a little goal.... :)

 When I was a child, I used to think that someone other than me by 1 year is really a big deal – that he/she is more knowledgeable, grown up than me. I would be in awe of my ‘seniors’. I wouldn’t even see them as my peers as they are high up and above. My yardstick was my siblings’ age. Any one 4 years older than me (my sister’s age), are matured, and anyone 4 years younger, (my brother’s age) I saw them as juveniles; people who you needn’t respect and whom you can lord over (that says something about my relationship with my brother, another day to discuss). Then I go into my teens and I thought that people who are in their twenties are all like wise adults, people in thirties are like the ‘aunties’ (read:housewives) and ‘uncles’ (read taxi drivers). Definitely discrimination here!!

    I also thought that people in their fifties are really old, of course, those older are ancient. The images I conjured would be those wrinkled, toothless people that have trouble walking.

    Yet, my parents are now in the mid-sixties. I don’t see them as lao ah pek (old man) or lao ah mm (old woman). They are more or less the same to me as they were 20 years ago, though recently my 2 year old plus child who saw an elderly woman (as of how I perceived) on TV, pointed and said ah ma (grandma). That did set me thinking. I have been looking at them without really seeing them, or maybe the wonders of hair dye? 

    And right now, I am working and interacting with colleagues from different background and a range of ages. My yardsticks are shifted. I see them all as my peers. Age is no longer an issue or a consideration as I worked with them. I no longer am so concern about finding out who’s older and younger, unlike the naïve me who in my earlier years of working had asked a female colleague in her thirties of her specific age, not realising that it was pretty offending. So people, you have been warned in advance!

    The funny thing is now with each year passing,, I realised that I am reaching the age of ‘aunties’, yet I do not feel mature at all. Perhaps young at heart? Ha. Ha. Or deceiving myself. There is a joke that myself and another colleague (ex-colleague after today) had made, that we are forever 25. Yes, darling, you know who you are. Surprise! This blog entry is also dedicated to you.

    25 is a good age to be in. Carefree, colourful, collagen-rich. And girl, you definitely can pull it off because of your effervescent personality and easy-going nature. We are going to miss you, your wisecracks and the vibrancy you bring to the team. Take care and do remember that we hate you leaving but love you enough to understand that it’s for a better future.

    And to my mum, whose birthday is today. Happy birthday Ma! My love for you transcend ages. You look the same as how I remembered, even though others might perceive it differently.

Merry Christmas y'all!

Another piece of news that left me stunned,

Thoughts ran through my mind,

Could this be a joke?

I sat in my chair and re-read the message,

The screen flickered yet the text remained,

A wide array of emotions soon ensued,

Horrified, Upset, Incoherent, Lost, Incapacitated, Nervous, Grief

How will we be able to cope?

News was that someone was leaving,

Pushing aside the initial alarm,

Reminiscent visuals of laughter, creativity and

Constant barrage of reminders come to mind

Still without your technical expertise,

The bountiful ideas that came out from those meetings

Would never come to fruition. 

This I know I will miss

Your strong work ethics is paralleled by hard playing attitude

Though never partied with you,

But I hear you are quite the drinker and clubber.

Will make sure that we will catch up soon

In the meantime, let's party on lady of 25++!

This little note is my dedication to a great team member and friend. Thanks for your professional expertise and vibrant enthusiasm that has brought much effervescence to our CHAT meetings. You will dearly be missed.

 p.s. I promise to bake something for you in the beautiful cupcake holders.

    In the fine tradition of 6-word memoir.... Wanna wish you all the best for the next challenge :)

Christmas is just round the corner. Christmas trees are being put up in homes and presents are fast filling around them, waiting to be opened by those who have been ‘nice’. Well, at least that is what I used to believe in my childhood years and to a certain extent still do. Surely, it does not help with tunes of being good ringing through my head (♫ You better watch out…He’s making a list, he’s checking it twice, he’s gonna find out who’s naughty or nice ♫).

Naughty or nice… that seems to be the catch-phrase for I find myself doing a quick mental rundown of the cumulative events in the year past. In the past, I had no doubts for I knew I had been good, never offending or hurting anyone. The wondrous and magical feeling that comes with the festive season akin to that of the first flakes of snow that descends and blankets the lawn. Its touch leaves me feeling cleansed. And so, this festive season I had yearned to be reignited, in hope, of having the first snow descend upon me and bringing back fond memories of innocence lost.

However, for some reason, the first snow seems to have missed me in recent years. I do not feel the 'magic' that was experienced in childhood. Could it be that I am losing my childhood innocence? Could it be that the stress of adulthood has caught up with me? I felt lost; irrespective of the amount of good I do or how good I have been I no longer find joy over Christmas. Was I being too reflective? Thinking and worrying over unnecessary matters? Still, I wondered to myself if there could be anything that could bring cheer to me. But another thought came to mind; perhaps it has nothing to do with being good or bad, naughty or nice. We just need to be comfortable with ourselves, making peace on the things we have done. A closed friend reminded me that good things would come to those who deserve it and she has confidence that I deserved it. She did a little reality check with me on the little changes that have been happening around me. I am blessed with the company of loved ones. Good health of friends and family. So perhaps, this Christmas may not bring with it the good tidings for me alone but I have the assurance of good tidings to those I love. A consolation to me would be the New Year to look forward to.

Me: I want my new iPad, I want my new iPhone!

Friend: Don’t you already have the iPad and iPhone 4?

Me: No way, I want the iPad mini (7”) and iPhone 5. Both of these are slated for release in early 2011.

Friend: Will having these new gadgets make you a happier man?

Me: I sure hope so for I am extremely discontented with having to fiddle with my iPhone 4 and all the antenna issues. My calls keep dropping out whenever I enter the carpark. As for the iPad mini…I like the current size but what harm would there be with a smaller iPad?

Of course, the above is just an imaginary exchange for I have neither the new iPad nor the new iPhone. However, as for the new releases of the gadgets, I do believe they are indeed in the pipeline. But reality is not that far-off considering the constant rush people have for new gadgets, ‘IT’ bags, cars and must-haves. Admittedly, I too am guilty of this relentless chase for the next must-have. Aside from gadgets, many of us are drawn into the endless pursuit for the next promotion, bigger title, salary increase; upgrade to a bigger engine car, house, and country club memberships.

The list just keeps going on and on, conjuring up an image of a laboratory rat running on the wheel within the cage – thus rat race. It is indeed tiring and stressful when we keep chasing after these monetary valued items with little care of what means the most to us. Many authors have written about

It is only till the moment that we lie on our death beds do we come to question what we have done with our lives? Have we developed meaningful relationships with our loved ones? Have we made a remarkable contribution to this world?

Now come a new set of studies that reveal yet another toll that money takes. An international team of researchers led by Jordi Quoidbach report in the August 2010 issue of Psychological Science that, although wealth may grant us opportunities to purchase many things, it simultaneously impairs our ability to enjoy those things.

The beat is very catchy and danceable – a sure number in the top 40’s.

What I find a little different about this single as compared to her other songs from her “Hot n Cold” album is the intensity of the lyrics.

"I think that's why I wrote it, is because I really believe in people and I believe that people have a spark to be a firework," she told MTV News at Sunday night's MTV Europe Music Awards in Madrid. "It's just up to them, and a lot of times it's only us that's standing in the way of reaching our goals, fulfilling our destinies, being the best version of who we possibly can be, so that's why I wrote it."

It is definitely different from her usual banter about boys and relationships.

Anyhow, I think the best part is the music video. It showcases real people discovering their inner beauty and stepping out loudly and proudly, no matter what their detractors may say. Katy Perry herself described it to be her favourite and has dedicated this video to the “It Gets Better” campaign – a campaign that supports gay and lesbian youths who are being bullied.

I am happy that artists are standing up to this issue of bullying. I truly believe that nobody has the right to demean or belittle a person, no matter how different they from one another. Well, with that in mind, I hope all of you enjoy the song and the music video as much as I do. :)

 Some people start off their day with a cup of coffee. Others, with hugs from their loved ones.  As for me, I start off my day with music.

Music has always been an integral part of my life. I sought music when I’m bored, when I’m happy or when I’m stressed. It’s not so much the lyrics of the music that gets me going, rather the beat and the rhythm of a particular song.

Lately though, I’ve been paying more attention to the lyrics and this particular song, I have to share with you.

 You're much more than a struggle that you go through
You're not defined by your pain, so let it go...
You're not a victim, you're more like a winner
And you're not in defeat, you're more like a queen


In each tear
there's a lesson,
Makes you wiser than before (wiser)
Makes you stronger than you know (stronger than you know)
In each tear ( in each tear)
Brings you closer to your dreams
No mistake, no heartbreak
Can take away what you're meant to be

I find the lyrics very meaningful. I like it how it tells us that we are greater than whatever problems we are facing, because that’s empowering. Most of the time, we get easily defeated by any difficulties that we face and will adopt a mindset that there is no hope for the better. And easily too, we become self-defeating, doubting our abilities and strengths to brush the dirt of our shoulders and get back up.

Well, enough talk and enjoy the music!

Have you seen the Facebook link to the YouTube video on someone attempting to park her MPV car? The caption goes along the lines of “auntie parking car”.

While this generated quite a lot of laughter within the fb social network, I could hardly appreciate the humour. You see, I think my parking is worst than that. I was tempted to chastised one of my acquaintance, leaving my comment – “It’s not funny. Have some empathy!” and perhaps put myself at risk of being “un-friend”. In the end, I did not.  After all, isn’t this some harmless fun that provides some laughter to our mundane lives? Am I too stoic to have taken it so seriously? Of course, it would also mean that I will be admitting to my bad parking skills.

What crosses the line of harmless fun to that of technological shaming? Recently, the media has its spotlight on cyber-bullying, surfacing the devastating impact of broadcasting people’s private moments and leaving it for others to leave their cruel comments. (See: Naturally Abstemious Muse blog on Cyber - Bullying, https://www.youthinmind.sg/youth-chat/blogs/cyberbullying/ and CHAT news on “Bullied to death” https://www.youthinmind.sg/news/livingwell/bulliedtodeath/ ) I thought I’ll hop on the bandwagon and give my take on this issue.

Cliché as it sounds, the world we live in has changed. It’s a place where camera mobile phones are abounding and bringing in the phenomenon of citizen journalism. It pushes boundaries of privacy.  It makes me imagine, when I am attempting to park the car, someone will be having a good laugh and filming the whole process.

It seems that my concerns are not uncommon. Recently, I came across someone who was almost labeled as having delusions, having mentioned about her fear of people filming her in the toilet with pin-hole cameras and putting it up on YouTube. Upon further questioning, the origins of the fear came about from the media reports of similar happenings. She was not preoccupied with such thinking in her daily life although she would give a quick scan of her surroundings. Delusional? It‘s understandable in our context. I call it self-protection. 

I wonder too if I had in the past had inevitably cause hurt to anyone with the copious pictures that I have uploaded and of the wisecracks that I try to come up with to go along, all with good intentions of preserving memories. My kids could be my victims too... So here’s my personal credo in ensuring that I do not partake in any activities of technological shaming

• I will not video anyone who has not given me the green-light to do so.
• I will not upload any clips/pictures on the internet (open to public viewing) without seeking permission from people involved.
• I will not flame and/or shame anyone with unflattering pictures and criticisms, or make jokes at others’ expense.
• I will not make any comments on fb links to such videos (because the more comments made, the more visible the link will be).
• I will teach my children (for in future they will be more IT savvy than me) to be aware of the impact of their actions.

 And now, to put it to action without losing my sense of humour...

Being surrounded by mental illness, it becomes a significant part of my life. I remember how when I first started working in this line, I was hyper-vigilant to any “symptoms” I might have. What’s more, I’m right smack at the “at-risk” age for females!

In the first month at work, when I heard something faint, I’d sit up and for a second wonder if I just had an auditory hallucination. If I saw something out of the corner of my eye, I’d fleetingly wonder if it was my imagination.

This week over dinner with a colleague, we jokingly started diagnosing each other. She decided that if I had any sort of symptom, it would be paranoia. I laughed it off at the time but it did make me feel funny after.

Whose bright idea was it to start throwing out diagnoses as dinner conversation!?? Right…mine. Note to self - terrible idea.

The next morning, as I sleepily boarded the bus to work and tapped my EZ-link card, I heard a drawn-out “hiiiiii”. Curious, I turned my head to come face to face with the young PRC bus driver, who had on the most unnerving expression as he gazed at me, head cocked to one side with a lazy smile.

You know how sometimes you look at someone, and there’s just something about them that makes you feel uncomfortable? I felt that immediately.

I furrowed my brows as I walk on to sit in the middle of the bus, puzzled and trying to remember if I knew this man from somewhere. He kinda looked like my foot reflexology guy…that would explain the greeting. But still, it was a strange greeting.

From the mirror, I could see his eyes on me still even after I’d sat down (it was a short distance with lots of slow driving and long traffic lights). At first I pretended I was unaware and determinedly refuse to give eye contact and looked out the window as though I was very interested in the scenery outside.

 Eventually curiosity got the better of me and I wanted to be certain that he was indeed sneaking long looks at me. So I watched the mirror. And sure enough, he kept craning his neck to take sidelong looks at me, with eyebrows raised suggestively. It was excessive, it was inappropriate, it was disturbing. Even as I glared back at him through the mirror, he didn’t flinch. The nerve!

It wasn’t right! If he were a passenger I’d not mind and just brush it off as him being unwell. But this was the bus driver! Hired to serve the public! 

I’m quite a confrontational person. I voice out my opinions and stand up for myself. So I finally was so angry I walked to the front and asked politely, “do I know you?”

“No,” he replied, unabashed.

“Then why do you keep looking at me,” I flatly stated.

He drawled in this kiddish, sing-songish voice, “neeeverr whaat…”

I was so utterly uncomfortable that I just turned my back to him and prayed for the doors to open ASAP! Even then, I could still feel his eyes on me. The moment the doors opened and I stepped out, my whole body felt weak and I was slightly shaky from the strange experience. 

As I walked up to my office, thinking about how I just needed to offload this to someone, it dawned on me that it was such terrible timing – the day after a colleague “diagnosed” me with paranoia, I rock up with some bizarre story about a pervy bus driver. And not only that, I’d ACTED on my “delusion” by confronting him!

It’d be funny if it wasn’t so sad. Is this how my patients feel? I felt rather ashamed at how I had just recently told a new patient, “I understand that to you, these feelings and experiences are very real, but actually, they’re not. It’s the illness.”

Who am I to discount their experience?

Even as I relayed this incident later to 3 close colleagues, a part of me had the feeling they didn’t quite believe the story as I told it and they seemed to react more to the fact that I’d gone and spoken to this man, than to the idea of this awful man who was going around driving a busload of passengers and behaving inappropriately!

Paranoia? Maybe, maybe not.

Traditionally, bullies in school would scout playgrounds for victims to taunt and pick upon by snatching their lunches, pocket money, physically assaulting and even humiliating them in front of their classmates. Though bullying in Singapore schools may not be as common but the advent of the Internet has changed the playing field. With many youths turning to Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, MSN or any other social-networking platforms online to interact socially; it is inevitable that they be met with some form of bullying. Bullies no longer scout the school playground for victims but that of the always-on Internet. The term used for such bullying is called cyber-bullying, which “involves the use of information and communication technologies to support deliberate, repeated, and hostile behavior, by an individual or group, that is intended to harm others.” There is a multitude of ways that people bully others online. They send e-mails or instant messages containing insults or threats directly to a person or posting embarrassing video footage and photos online. They may also spread hateful comments about a person through e-mail, instant messaging or postings on Web sites and online diaries. Young people steal passwords and send out threatening e-mails or instant messages using an assumed identity. Technically savvy kids may build whole Web sites, often with password protection, to target specific students or teachers. What makes situations worse and more intimidating is that such demeaning information are likely to remain in the virtual world perpetually leading individuals to feel even more shame and loss of dignity.

Cyber-bullying "involves the use of information and communication technologies to support deliberate, repeated, and hostile behavior by an individual or group, that is intended to harm others.”

Statistics published by the site CyberBullying.us cites that 33 percent of youth have been victimized by online bullying. Recent news reported an increase on cyber-bullying that has led to several suicides. Two of which are that of Ryan Halligan and Tyler Clementi aged 13 and 18 respectively.

“Ryan Halligan was taunted for months. Classmates spread rumours via instant messaging that the 13-year-old boy was gay. A popular female classmate pretended to like him and chatted with him online, only to copy their exchanges to her friends. Unable to cope, the teenager from Vermont in the US killed himself.”

In the case of Tyler Clementi, an accomplished violin player, just 18 years old had jumped off the George Washington Bridge after his roommate secretly streamed on the Internet a live recording of him having sex with another man.

These may seem as extreme cases yet the devastation wrought by cyber-bullying continues to prevail. It is a misnomer to think that cyber-bullying is something that only happens in Western cultures. In Singapore there has been an increase in cases too. In an informal poll conducted by Touch Cyber Wellness & Sports of 255 students from three secondary schools, almost 35 per cent said they had been cyber-bullied in one form or another. Most recently, a video of two female students having a tryst in a school toilet was reportedly circulated on mobile phones. Another instance involved a Blog page where pictures of a girl was defaced accompanied by rude and derogative comments (http://singaporeseen.stomp.com.sg/stomp/sgseen/this_urban_jungle/311794/cyber_bully_mocks_classmate_and_defaces_her_picture_on_blog.html). 

Guess what started today’s entry about cyber-bullying is the increase in referrals I have been seeing where clients shared about being bullied online; cases whereby their classmates have remarked about them being “weird” and would openly “flame” them.  In one instance, some even believed that there was rampant coverage of their activities where they felt that people not only in school campuses but strangers along the streets or within their neighbourhood were talking about them. Although some of these instances seem trivial and are done in jest, the detrimental effects remain, leading individuals to become extremely conscious and may even withdraw from interactions for they experience great anxiety and distress.

Websites that cover cyber-bullying:-

• Cyberbullying Research Center - http://cyberbullying.us/

The Cyberbullying Research Center is dedicated to providing up-to-date information about the nature, extent, causes, and consequences of cyberbullying among adolescents.  Cyberbullying can be defined as "willful and repeated harm inflicted through the use of computers, cell phones, and other electronic devices."

• http://www.asiaone.com/specials/cyberBully/

Give it Today

  Just because you're sad, doesn't mean it's forever

 Just because it happened, doesn't mean it's all bad

 Give it one more day

 Give it today

 Just because you stumble, doesn't mean that you'll fall

 Just because you're scared, doesn't mean you'll unravel

 Give it one more day

 Give it today

 Just because it's an ordeal, doesn't mean it's the end

 Just because you've been wounded, doesn't mean you won't heal

 Give it one more day

 Give it today

 Just because you ache, doesn't mean there's no answer

 Just because you crack, doesn't mean you will break

 Give it one more day

 Give it today

 It's just a matter of time

 Time will make it different

 What will make it change?

 It's just a matter of mind

 Give it one more day

 Give it today

Don't think about yesterday

  Don't worry about tomorrow

 Today is the only day

 Give it today

 Just because you don't know it, doesn't mean it'll change

 There is hope for the taking if you just try to permit

 The tough times to roll, the hard times to be

 Light in the darkness

 And today is your goal

 It can get better

 It will get better

 Give it today.

I have been missing in action and battling with my familiar nemesis…

If there is ever a machine that ever tallies up all the work a person has left undone, I would imagine that the machine that does it for me would be doing overtime. In my primary school, I used to fantasize about how my teacher will have such a machine where she will know who are the naughty students who have not been doing their homework and topping the list will be moi.

I have always been someone who procrastinates. I will dream up of different projects to undertake, think about the work that needs to be done, people I need to spend time with, chapters to read, hobbies to pursue, and all of which remains inside my head or half-baked products that lies in the residues of the organised chaos of my room... which means that my list also include organising my belongings, revamping the wardrobe, sorting old photos, throwing things I’ve hoarded… and so on

Unfortunately, most remained as thoughts, few embarked on, fewer completed and accomplished, and even if they are, the regular errands that needs attending to; shopping to be made, monthly bills to be pay for, they don’t just screeched to a halt just because it done for the month. Time just marches on….

 Okay, have I tried organising by writing it down? Like self-help books that talk about sorting out urgent and important things into rows and columns? Sure… doing a list is very helpful, that is if I actually remember to doing it and go back to check on it... I’ve got lists in forgotten notepads lying in the piles of seemingly neat stacks… stacks that are waiting in vain for me to sort…

Allies of my enemy called Perfectionism and Laziness can also make matters worst. The perfectionistic streak in me delays me when I try to be as through as possible in my work. Sometimes, it leaves me thinking that the task ahead is so overwhelming that I just find it so difficult to take action. Laziness then provides all the excuses for me and tempts me into my favourite activity (or inactivity?) – Sleep.

It’s no wonder that my recurring nightmares have a theme of procrastination. Once a while, when guilt seeps in, I will dream of going for Mathematics or Chinese Language examinations unprepared or trapped in scenarios where I will attempt to prepare but efforts will be thwart. Somehow, these dreams do motivate me for a short while…. And then I’ll lapse.

With it come feelings of guilt and disappointment in myself. Helplessness sets in. The familiar old self-critic in me then gets activated and enact the usual ‘You did not do enough’, ‘You are lazy.’, ‘You can’t change.’ in my head.

I’ve come to accept the cycle of catching up and lapses, the battle against time and procrastination will continue. When errands pile up, instead of continuing to avoid, I’ll choose something that is easiest to do to start the momentum and hopefully continue to sustain it at least as long as I can. If I were to lapse, I’ll take it that it’s a break to rejuvenate me.

Am I deluding myself?

This must have been the second time that I said I hate rainy days. 

Just came back from a doctor's visit. I remembered going out with the day starting bright and sunny. And I had expected good news.

Rainy days - I'm beginning to feel that such weather brings me nothing but bad stuff.

Here is what the doctor said to me, "I'm afraid the level has gone up. And we will need to monitor the baby's situation closely. Please come again tomorrow for it will be crucial that we check the levels again. I'm sorry I'll have to trouble you like that."

I felt my heart sank. Unlike how I would have behaved two years ago, I didn't cry. But I didn't feel good. My family and I left the consultation room, not saying a word, even until we reached home.

Throughout the journey home, I can't help but to keep looking at the rain. It's almost like my tears, if I allow myself to cry. But I held back, for crying is really of no use in such a situation. I feel comforted just looking at how heavy the rain is.

If only neonatal jaundice is as well understood as other health conditions, where there is proper treatment, unlike the current practice where they just keep pricking the poor baby for blood to do testing, just so that they can "monitor the situation closely", and if the levels crossed a critical limit, the baby is then to be admitted to a hospital for phototherapy.

10:41am. Light rain.

I feel better. But I'm not sure why. Perhaps, past experience tells me that no matter how high the levels can get, there comes a day when the levels will drop to a safe limit. I just need to wait for that day to come, just like how I had waited for exactly two months for my first child. It's only the 14th day today, so there's more waiting to come.

Patience. Patience. More patience. Courage as well. And the fact that it's too young for my newborn to remember the agony of needle pricking anyway. That should do. 

Flipflop's weather forecast for tomorrow: May it be a sunny one. Afterall, it has rained enough for today. 

A group of children were playing near two railway tracks, one still in use while the other disused. Only one child played on the disused track, the  rest on the operational track.

The train is coming, and you are just beside the track interchange. You can make the train change its course to the disused track and save most of the kids. However, that would also mean the lone child playing by the disused track would be sacrificed. Or would you rather let the train go its way?    

Let's take a pause to think what kind of decision we could make........

Most people might choose to divert the course of the train, and sacrifice only one child. You might think the same way, I guess. Exactly, to save most of the children at the expense of only one child is a rational decision most people would make, morally and emotionally. But, have you ever thought that the child choosing to play on the disused track had in fact made the right decision to play at a safe place?

Nevertheless, he had to be sacrificed because of his ignorant friends who chose to play where the danger was. This kind of dilemma happens around us everyday. In the office, community, in politics and especially in a democratic society, the minority is often sacrificed for the interest of the majority, no matter how foolish or ignorant the majority are, and how far-sighted and knowledgeable the minority are. The child who chose not to play with the rest on the operational track was sidelined. And in the case he was sacrificed, no one would shed a tear for him.

The great critic Leo Velski Julian who told the story said he would not try to change the course of the train because he believed that the kids playing on the operational track should have known very well that track was still in use, and that they should have run away if they heard the train's sirens. If the train was diverted, that lone child would definitely die because he never thought the train could come over to that track! Moreover, that track was not in use probably because it was not safe. If the train was diverted to the track, we could put the lives of all passengers on board at stake! And in your attempt to save a few kids by sacrificing one child, you might end up sacrificing hundreds of people to save these few kids.

While we are all aware that life is full of tough decisions that need to be made, we may not realize that hasty decisions may not always be the right one.  

Remember that 'what's right isn't always popular... and what's popular isn't always right.'  

Everybody makes mistakes; that's why they put erasers on pencils.

Ooohhh my sweet precious, how have I taken you for granted. The sweet suspended time I have with you lulls me further in; not wanting to wake to the noise around, of birds chirping, cars screeching and phones ringing. I seek your warm embrace of beautiful dreams you promise; which leaves me yearning for more, more of wondrous places, faces and scenes I have yet to reach in my subliminal state and can only imagine.

In case you might be wondering what the cryptic message may be alluding to… I am referring to “SLEEP” (aka as zzzZZ).  According to the National Sleep Foundation (NSF), sleep is essential for a person’s health and wellbeing. It plays a huge part in the way our bodies function, so big in fact, that if we (or any animal) are totally deprived of sleep for an extended period of time, we will actually die.

[S]leep is the golden chain that ties health and our bodies together.  ~Thomas Dekker

Sleep has always been something that I have taken for granted except for periods where I was on overnight duties (during my NSF days). However, this concept revisited itself when I returned for my reservist (yes, this was typed out during my off-days in reservist). It was during this period that I have come to be reminded of how precious sleep can be. In the past, I enjoyed my reservist as it meant that I will be away from work engaging in training sessions and also conversing with friends I have not met for eons. However, my unit decided to take on a different approach in changing the structure to our reservist duties. Compared to the good ole days where I was able to book out at the end of the day to return home for a good night rest under the amended scheme.

  I am now required to stay-in camp and be ‘operationally’ prepared. This time round, it will be my second round of in-camp training of this nature. Basically, I am slated to work on a “one-day on and one-day off “schedule. Loosely translated, I report for duty at 0800 hrs (8 am) and only finish my tour the following morning at 0800 hrs – yep that’s right a full 24 hours tour of duty. I have only been in camp for the first week and am already feeling the toil of sleep disruption and deprivation. Could it be my age that is catching up with me? Or am I simply not fit enough to stay up for 24 hours. I remember days where I had gone out partying and clubbing till the wee hours of the morning and was still be able to push through the rest of my day (albeit that I needed my caffeine boost). But for some reason my body is no longer keeping up with me, I find my memory worsening as I struggle to remember the dates which have come to a blur, my eating rituals disrupted and weight gaining as I feast on fried foods, chips and snacks to keep myself alert, lowered moods and being more irritable to people around me. I can feel my body weakening (as I lean over to draw another tissue to wipe away the sneeze and am in search of another Panadol to cure the migraine headache as I am typing my blog entry). I could seriously feel the strain and find myself slump over the keyboard the minute I allow myself to rest.

I gather that by the end of the week, my sleep cycle would be so de-synchronised that I would need another 2 weeks of proper rest to recuperate before I could restore a proper sleep cycle. Yet, that is still another 1.5 weeks away. In the meantime, I am most likely to be caught with my eyes closed. Should that happen, I have a few quotes prepared as a quick retort to my superior.

1. “I wasn’t really asleep I was just meditating on unconsciousness” – Anonymous
2. "Living is a disease from which sleep gives us relief eight hours a day." – S. R. N. Chamfort
3. "There is a time for many words, and there is also a time for sleep." – Homer
4. "To achieve the impossible dream, try going to sleep." -- Joan Klempner
5. Sleep is a symptom of caffeine deprivation.  ~Author Unknown (this is for all my coffee friends who yearn for a Nespresso in the office)

I can now finally relate to the many clients I have encountered in my line of work as they shared with me their sleep problems, and in some cases, sleep disorders. Those with sleep disorders are associated with a wide range of health problems, including an increased risk of hypertension, diabetes, obesity, depression, myocardial infarction and stroke. As the author, F. Scott Fitzgerald aptly summed it up, “The worst thing in the world is to try to sleep and not to”.

So do learn to cherish the importance of proper and good sleep hygiene as I have cherished it even more in the past few days.

The Harvard Women’s Health Watch suggests six reasons to get enough sleep:

1.  Learning and memory: Sleep helps the brain commit new information to memory through a process called memory consolidation. In studies, people who’d slept after learning a task did better on tests later.
2. Metabolism and weight: Chronic sleep deprivation may cause weight gain by affecting the way our bodies process and store carbohydrates, and by altering levels of hormones that affect our appetite.
3. Safety: Sleep debt contributes to a greater tendency to fall asleep during the daytime. These lapses may cause falls and mistakes such as medical errors, air traffic mishaps, and road accidents.
4. Mood: Sleep loss may result in irritability, impatience, inability to concentrate, and moodiness. Too little sleep can also leave you too tired to do the things you like to do.
5. Cardiovascular health: Serious sleep disorders have been linked to hypertension, increased stress hormone levels, and irregular heartbeat.
6. Disease: Sleep deprivation alters immune function, including the activity of the body’s killer cells. Keeping up with sleep may also help fight cancer.

Extracted from http://www.health.harvard.edu/press_releases/importance_of_sleep_and_health

Notes: Should you notice yourself having difficulties with sleep, it could be related to certain stressors faced, lifestyle changes, environmental stressors or physical problems. Do take the initiative to talk to someone and seek professional help should sleep problems persist and are prolonged.

Oh great. I can’t think of anything awesome that’s happened recently, much less today. Let’s see…

Shopping is awesome – I’ve put on so much weight I now buy a dress size up. Relationships are awesome – I haven’t been on a date since I started this job. My best friend is awesome – she’s so busy climbing the corporate ladder that I’ve not spoken to her in weeks. My beautiful cat in Australia is awesome – he got run down by a car on Friday.

Doom. Gloom. Some more doom.

If you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit of an emo wreck at times :) (at least I can laugh about it!) Always have been - my friends knew me as a drama queen in secondary school, and all my relationships thus far have been the stuff of novels (good and bad).

A colleague recently hugged me and said, “I worry about you a lot, you know.”

Even someone who’s only known me a couple of months has seen through the professional facade to the melancholy that lurks! -____-"

Ridiculously, I actually enjoy being the complicated, sentimental, emo person that I am. I think it makes for an interesting life. But sometimes I read some of the blog entries by my colleagues and they seem so….composed. Like they’ve got life figured out. I feel so dysfunctional compared to them.

*sheepish smile*

Well, I finally realized that the “Highlight of my day” was this :

Sometimes, it's ok to say you need help. 

There’s this Alanis Morissette song that you probably know. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to say the title here but basically, it rhymes with Ditch. There are a couple of lines that kept coming to mind as I sat here typing this rambling entry.

I'm your hell I'm your dream
I'm nothing in between

You know you wouldn't want it any other way

I'm enough; I'm revived
Can't say I'm not alive

You know I wouldn't want it any other way

 Sometimes, it’s ok to be a little bit off-center :)

And if you are, you're probably not alone.

Coincidentally, or perhaps some may call it fate, I chanced upon a book that I thought I've lost for good. Reading it again, I felt some relief to what I feel troubled with.

There is a kind of monkey trap used in Asia. A coconut is hollowed out and attached by a rope to a tree or stake in the ground. At the bottom of the coconut, a small slit is made and some sweet food is placed inside. The hole on the bottom of the coconut is just big enough for the monkey to slide in his open hand, but does not allow for a closed fist to pass out. The monkey smells the sweets, reaches in with his hand to grasp the food and is then unable to withdraw it.

The clenched fist won't pass through the opening. When the hunters come, the monkey gets frantic but cannot get away. There is no one keeping that monkey captive, except the force of its own attachment. All that it has to do is to open the hand. But so strong is the force of greed in the mind that it is a rare monkey which can let go.

It is the desires and clinging in our minds which keep us trapped. All we need to do is to open our hands, let go of our selves, our attachment, and be free.

The Experience of Insight

Joseph Goldstein

I feel happy that I am angry.

The phase sounds odd, almost like I’m a masochist and takes joy in feeling the pain. Anger has always been associated with negativity and popular psychology always talks about the ‘expression of anger’ so as to manage it, though recently TIME magazine has tried to busted the myth. Hence, a common notion that anger has always been seen as the monster that has to be leashed.

My first forays into helping people cope with anger is about anger management. The philosophy behind this is basically one of understanding what underlies the anger as well as ways of reducing the magnitude of it, through appropriate expression so that the anger response is less destructive. Then again, anger management techniques are often the focus and the understanding aspect, forgotten. It almost seems like most people would prefer to avoid being in touch with the raw emotions.

Yet now I am rejoicing in my experience of feeling angry.

The incident had happened a few weeks back. I had felt slighted by someone. The annoyance that surfaced had led me to even wonder if I am petty to have felt that way. I knew that my thoughts may not have been even rational. I had felt strongly that my work was not valued and that the other party had doubts about my capability. I was upset.

Then I felt happy.

It dawned on me that I had experienced the anger because I was valuing myself and my work. I am aware of my own efforts in doing the job and that I am capable of carrying out the tasks. I have always been plagued by self-doubt, even though I always try to cognitively tell myself otherwise, so this new insight is fresh and touches me at the core.

For the first time, I feel that I am giving credit to myself, and loving myself the way that I would have like to do but never really had truly done so.

And suddenly, what the other party thought of me doesn’t seem to matter anymore.

So anger may not be maladaptive in all cases that we need to keep it reined and in check. If I stop myself from making contact with it, I may miss out the information. Next time any emotions come along, I will probably stay with it; experience it thoroughly, in order to make sense of what is going on.

As my vision became clearer, I saw bags of beige resting on the dash. Smoke was sizzling on the front and smelling like wield metal.  I felt trapped in a place so foreign.  I saw life moving on outside the space I was within – cars passed me by slowly and people stopped briefly just to catch a glimpse of the commotion. The song ‘Aftermath’ continued to play on the radio. Oh, how perfect was that!

I could not come to a decision: to leave or not to leave? I wanted to lay back and take a moment of rest, but I was disturbed by thoughts coming incessantly. Am I stuck behind the door? Will a fire be ignited? Will I be choked?

Amid the confusion and shock, I pushed the door open. A gush of cool wind calmed my numb skin and expelled the tepid air in my lungs. Noise of the surrounding became audible. As I moved on, I felt the resistance on my languid body.  I could not help but noticed the deep abrasions on my hands, which felt no pain.

Six months after the traffic accident, I am relieved that claims were settled against the other driver and, most importantly, I am still in a single piece.  Until the investigation came to a closure, it was a time of unease. I was worried about the damage of the car, the cost of the claims, and the results of the investigation. The initial phase was the toughest when I was having sleepless nights, struggling to be on the road again and feeling a heightened sense of fear whenever I saw nearing vehicles.

I had comments from others who told me not to stop driving to fight the trauma. I understand their genuine concerns and good intentions but, at that time, I was not ready to face the fear yet. Nevertheless, I resumed driving a replacement car. It was very difficult but not impossible.

 As I look back, I wonder how I managed to resume driving then.  I wonder if it would have been easier not to heed the advice of others and to be on the road only when things were more settled. Perhaps some may need more time to face their fear, while others show more readiness to confront the devil. As the charred skin on my hands heals with time, I see the disappointment on the devil’s face. Just how much time does one needs to conquer the fear?

 Here is an excerpt from The Quiet Room - A Journey out of the Torment of Madness.

" I felt that it was one thing to talk about impaired dopamine pathways, or atrophied frontal lobes-explanations that make up the scientific underpinnings of what we know or surmise about the cause of schizophrenia. It was quite another to understand just what it was like to live with a broken brain. For that is what the experience of schizophrenia is like. A person is walking calmly through a normal life when suddenly and without warning, something terrible occurs, something she has no words to explain. Something actually does break inside the brain.

What is there in any human being's experience to prepare him or her to cope with a broken brain? Who can understand what a catastrophe this break is for the human soul? For the thing that has broken is the person's ability to relate to another person. The thing that breaks is whatever it is that connects people to their environment, that allows them to recognize another person as someone outside of themselves.

It is hard for any of us who have not experienced it to understand the internal desolation such a break must cause. It must be worse than the worst experience of solitary confinement. People with schizophrenia are locked out of the outside world, and locked inside their heads with nothing but these wild, out-of-control thoughts banging about inside. For what has also broken is the brain's ability to process emotion and thoughts. In people with schizophrenia the normal emotions-that we all every day categorize, process and either accept into our consciousness or push back into the recesses of our minds-run amok. Emotions that would normally be comfortably catalogued as unacceptable take on a life of their own as voices that seem more real than the real world outside.

We felt that by trying to understand what patients were feeling, we could help them to understand too. And by helping them to understand, we could help them feel less overpowered and less terrified by their symptoms. We could help them understand what had happened to them, and we could help them learn to  manage their condition."

The highlighted paragraph basically sums up our role as a mental health worker.

I am part of a lost generation
and I refuse to believe that
I can change the world
I realize this may be a shock but
“Happiness comes from within.”
is a lie, and
“Money will make me happy.”
So in 30 years I will tell my children
they are not the most important thing in my life
My employer will know that
I have my priorities straight because
work
is more important than
family
I tell you this
Once upon a time
Families stayed together
but this will not be true in my era
This is a quick fix society
Experts tell me
30 years from now, I will be celebrating the 10th anniversary of my divorce
I do not concede that
I will live in a country of my own making
In the future
Environmental destruction will be the norm
No longer can it be said that
My peers and I care about this earth
It will be evident that
My generation is apathetic and lethargic
It is foolish to presume that
There is hope.

And all of this will come true unless we choose to reverse it

 Came across this poem by John Reed sometime back when I reflected over the achievements and burning problems faced by our generation. What made this an interesting poem is that when read backwards it bears a different meaning - a sense of hope - that we can and have a say on how we want our future to be. Perhaps, like many things in our lives, we should learn to see things from a different vantage point and be innovative and daring enough to take the plunge to be different. Only with change would we be able to learn new insights about ourselves and our lives.  

 I, for one, have gained a little insight into myself through the video clip and hope that it may have a positive influence on you. Your thoughts?  

A couple of months saw an amazing sight. A double rainbow. Rainbows have an amazing ability to lift up my mood. I still go WOW! when I see one and this time it was a double WOW! 2 rainbows, one behind the other. I was looking at the horizon from a hill top and there they were, rising from the valley floor below, going across the river and disappearing into the horizon. It was bit hazy and unclear initially but patience paid off in spades. As I waited, hoping it will get clearer, it actually did. The rainbows got clearer and the sun peeped out from its hiding place behind the clouds. It made my day. Almost felt like going to hunt for the ‘pot of gold’ at the edge of the rainbows.

 Nature had put on a spectacular display and I am really, really glad I was on hand to catch the show. And, now even after several months have passed, I still think of them and consider myself lucky to have witnessed the spectacle.

Something to inspire and tickle your day!

All my life, I have a phobia of mice and rats – dead or alive. Even seeing them on TV or in photos, can literally give me nightmares! Many times, I dream of them chasing or jumping at me, and I wake up screaming.

All this time, I told myself that I’ll die if ever I step on one. And I DID!!! My son and I were walking along the road after lunch. Because the road was narrow, I stepped up and walked on the pavement. We were chatting and then I stepped on a small hard board and it flipped. My son said: “Mummy, don’t look!” And I knew instantly what it was ..... eeeeks....yikes .... urgghss  ... it was a dead mouse! It was stuck to the underside of the board. I caught a glimpse of it and I ran  ... screaming! I threw up and I felt SICK! The minute we got home, I got my son to remove my slippers and throw them away. I headed straight for the bathroom where I spent a good 10 minutes or so, soaping my feet and washing them, again and again. I was such a nervous wreck that I couldn’t focus on my work for the rest of the day.

  At first, I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it. The next day when my sister called, I decided to tell her. She knows about my phobia and offered her sympathies. Then, she said – “Well, you survived. That means you can survive anything!” Well, I told myself, she has a point – “that which does not kill me, makes me stronger!” But I hope and pray that it will never happen again – because the next time my heart may not be able to take it!!! So pray for me too, will you???

A topic that seems to have popped up a lot recently among my young patients have been – “So I’m getting better and want to go back to my previous lifestyle and hang out with old friends again. How do I explain my absence? In the first place, should I explain my absence?”

My very intelligent and sociable patient and I had a long discussion about it this week.

On one hand, if he doesn’t tell them, then he’s plagued by guilt each time they go out. There’s this unspoken barrier between him and them because from his point of view, his friends must know something hasn’t been right with him. So it’s like the giant elephant in the room that no one’s talking about. And he reckons that if they knew, then maybe they’ll be understanding and he wouldn’t keep feeling so conscious about those moments where he lapses from his “usual self” and isn’t as quick-witted as before, ready with a funny retort to their many jokes.

It’s like, they don’t get him anymore.

And perhaps if they knew the journey he’s been on the past 4 months, if they knew the personal battles he’s still struggling to overcome, maybe there’ll be more patience and support. Then those fleeting moments where he appears lost in his own world during a steamboat gathering wouldn’t be met with puzzlement and the likes of “what’s up with him these days? I feel like I don’t know him anymore!”

And on the other hand, the more obvious hand…what if they freak out and reject him? What if they start treating him differently? Or worst, what if this very personal piece of information gets spread like wildfire through their school friends? The smartest of people can at times act in horrifyingly ignorant ways.

This brings to mind something that bothered me a whole lot recently so please let me go off on a tangent – I went out with a University friend last week who suddenly asked, “hey do you remember Benjamin from school? He has HIV leh! I bumped into Kenneth the other day and he told me.” I was more aghast by the fact that something like this was making its rounds on the grapevine than by the highly-stigmatized condition. I frowned and asked, “Why is Kenneth mentioning something like this in passing? Why are you telling me about it too? That’s his own private business!” My very successful and intelligent friend replied, “to warn us mah. In case we see him around.” Sigh.

Ignorance is everywhere. Especially when it comes to the unknown. There are so many misconceptions out there of mental health. I still meet grown-ups who snigger childishly when "Woodbridge Hospital" is mentioned.

So, a conundrum, my patient and I concluded. One that only he can decide on in the end. Family members who care dearly about him have conflicting views; I as his youth support worker also have my own view. But ultimately, they are his friends, he knows them best. Aside from the obvious questions about how trustworthy and supportive he thinks this bunch of friends are, we decided a good starting point was –  What is your motivation behind wanting to tell them?

And then we work together to help him reach a decision from there. What do you think?

Being a worrier since childhood (I remember that I would have sleepless nights at 8 years old, worrying that there would be a World War 3 and that the plane would drop a bomb on us, anytime. Seriously!), this book has really helped me gain perspective on how I handle my troubles.

I have a tendency to always think of the worst possible scenario, which more often than not, will affect my confidence in my abilities. This will sometimes stop me from taking action and it can be quite frustrating as it makes me feel that I’m not meeting my full potential.

Dale Carnegie, in his first chapter, talked about living in “day tight compartment”, which basically translates to focusing on the issue at hand, and shutting off the past and future.

“Shut off the future as tightly as the past…The future is today…There is no tomorrow.”

“Waste of energy, mental distress, nervous worries dog the steps of a man who is anxious about the future.”

I believe there is a lot of truth in what he said, based on my own experience as well as through my interactions with my clients. I find that some of my clients are very unwilling to look for a job, despite them lamenting that they have no future due to their unemployed state. When explored further, I soon understood that their unwillingness to look for a job stems from their worries about the possibility of rejection or being unable to cope with the work load. This can easily become a vicious cycle. You start worrying, there will be inertia to act, your confidence dip, and you’ll worry more.

To overcome this detrimental cognitive style, Dale Carnegie suggested doing these things

1. Ask yourself, what is the worst that can possibly happen?
2. Prepare to accept it if you have to.
3. Then calmly proceed to improve on the worst.

I’ve tried it a couple of times, and it does help alleviate some of my worries. It also helps me refocus on the task at hand and not get distracted by the annoying “what ifs”. Hopefully, I will be able to apply it to my clients too, and in doing so, help them lead a less stress free and more fulfilling life.

I was feeling a little blue yesterday. Things not working out well at various fronts, too many commitments and too little time etc. etc. And then I looked out and saw the most amazing sunset. And , NO I did not travel to an exotic destination to see it. Saw it from my window.

 The sun was like a huge ball, fiery orange and it sank beneath the horizon very gradually. There were bluish purple clouds floating across the sun’s face and the whole spectacle was on a shimmering blue and gray. It was as if the Creator had put on a very special show for us. Maybe HE did! For sometime it was as if my trouble and woes did not exist. Even after the sun bade goodbye and the stars came out to play in a darkened sky, I was left with the thoughts and images of the setting sun’s lingering beauty. I promised myself then, that I will certainly stop to smell the roses and appreciate nature’s bounty when I am down. It sure worked better that an antidepressant.                         

It’s that time of the year!!

No, not what you are thinking about, but it is the time of the year where my superstitious relatives will remind me about swimming in pools, to be mindful of certain words that sounds similar or rhymes with that of 'gooey' or guǐ (鬼 in Chinese Pinyin). Truth of the matter is, I am not the least bit superstitious but it has always been a thing of interest or should I say morbid curiosity on my part where I would visit haunted houses or places so that I could come face to face with gooeys.

Alas, in all my years of adventurous exploits I have not encountered anything of that nature other than the juicy stories I hear at campsites or during gatherings. In case you have not fathomed upon what I am referring to, this is the Hungry Ghost Month. This topic came up during a recent meeting where one of my colleagues had asked about the significance of the Ghost Month (HGM) and whether it bore any relationship with the increased hospital admission rates.

It has always been a point of contention as to whether people attributing their psychotic experiences to spiritual reasons is indeed valid. I remember one of the first few cases I had taken up - it was a NSF boy - brought into the hospital as he was exhibiting odd behaviour. He had believed that 3 spirits had possessed him; first being a female ghost along with two other being that of the tiger and snake spirits. The ghastly sight of him crawling and prancing over the floor in the ward makes The Exorcist (a 1973 American horror film) look tamed.

The NSF boy's family initially believed that he was possessed and had called upon the spiritual elders to pray over him. At that time, I had momentarily entertained the idea that this may possibly be a spiritual possession for we were right smack in the middle of the HGM. However, even with spiritual help, where they had performed rituals over him, the boy continued to show no signs of improvements. The family finally agreed to medication and it was through medication and support from the mental health professionals and his family in gaining awareness towards his condition did he start show and make progress to his recovery.

As for the link between HGM with that of hospital admission rates, a colleague of mine had conducted a preliminary analysis few years back on our hospitalisation data and noted that there seems to be a spike in the month of July along with spikes in the Christmas, New Year and CNY period. In short, admission rates seem to be higher during festive periods. Perhaps, it is not so much of the apparitions up to any mischief, but (coincidentally), this period like all festive periods, families may be overwhelmed with prayers and religious practices that any commotion at home will warrant families wanting to seek respite care.

I am bracing myself this month for the increased referrals but will not be cutting back on my swimming and late night prowls of haunted sites. Yet, for those of you who may be somewhat pantang and still wish to survive this month, below is survival guide for the Hungry Ghost month.

1. Avoid swimming during the 7th month. It is believed that the evil ghosts of those who previously drowned might cause you to drown in the waters. Such ghosts need to find victims in order for them to be reborn.
   
   
2. Children and young adults are also advised to return home early and not to wander around alone at night. This belief is due to the reason that the wandering ghosts can possess children easily.
   
   
3. Avoid moving into new homes and opening new businesses this month as it is considered inauspicious and it brings bad luck to new ventures.
   
   
4. Avoid getting married during this month because couples who do so will have a bad ending. Some evil ghosts may cast a bad spell on the couple during their wedding.
   
   
5. Avoid going on jungle trekking and camping trips as chances of injuries, possession and death are high.
   
   
6. Drive very carefully during this month to avoid accidents, as there may be many wandering spirits, who died in accidents previously, that are searching for their next victims so that they can be reincarnated."

Extracted from: http://club.stomp.com.sg/stomp/sgseen/this_urban_jungle/431170/wandering_hungry_ghosts_stay_safe_with_these_pointers.html

Note: The blog entry is uploaded on Fri 13^th (unintentional on the part of the author).

I am an eye-witness to the pain and struggle people with psychosis face in their daily life in my own experience of meeting and following them through their journeys. This illness can be debilitating, with some experiencing cognitive impairments after repeated relapses due to non-compliance, or for others because their duration of untreated psychosis (DUP) had been long delayed that they can no longer catch up, having been arrested in the developmental stage during adolescence, the phase in life that is so packed with transitions and possibilities of growth.

I have also come across of some whose confidence and zest in life have been so shattered that picking up the pieces has been arduous. Going back to what used to be seemingly simple job is so effortful and discouraging that the resultant lack of determination is viewed as being ‘lazy’ by family members. Of course, not forgetting that some with psychosis not just gets the positive symptoms of delusions and hallucinations but also negative symptoms that rob one of the volition and emotions; leaving behind an empty soul-less shell, a shadow of the previous vivacious person.

The picture is made more confusing as people have always blamed the medications for the ‘stoned’ look and sometimes it can be quite a challenge to convince family members otherwise that it is the illness, not the medications that may be responsible for their blunted affect or psychomotor retardation. Yet, I cannot deny that there are a proportion of people who do experience such side effects for certain drugs that are used to treat psychosis, which of course can be addressed by a necessary switch of medications by the treatment team.

So no wonder that creativity and psychosis is thought to run in parallel paths. I know of someone who had been so adamant that the medication robs her of the ability to paint, something which she had valued. Some have also lamented that they seem to have lost the flexibility in their thinking.

In fact, negative connotations have been frequently linked with psychosis, so much so that the shame that is commonly experienced with word associations like ‘crazy’, ‘disability’, making it all the more difficult for people to accept this illness. I myself, prior to the adequate contact with persons who have schizophrenia, had been guilty of thinking that way. During childhood days, there was an odd-mannered dark-skinned lady who would shuffle around my neighbourhood, collecting rubbish. I would avoid her as much as possible and could hardly manage a smile when she comes into my parents’ shop. I could have taken a leaf from my mother who would treat her like any normal customer, and would always remind me, while I squirmed in discomfort, that this same lady had saved me from being knocked down by a car, while I was crossing the road on my own at five years old.  

I’ve digressed.

The same group of people that I have worked with has also proven that the stereotyped beliefs can be misleading. I have seen beautiful works of art produced by people with psychosis (or with their illness in remission) and on medications. Batik painting, drawings, photography, clay works, you name it. Some have even made use of the painful emotions to channel it into producing song compositions, which turned out to be their better works.

Just the other night, I was wow-ed with what I saw in a masquerade party organised by the Occupational Therapist and patients from Club EPIP°. Plain white masks were transformed, with use of colours and patterned motifs, all hand-drawn and hand-painted. Participants were sporting and spontaneous; showcasing their talents; singing, dancing, reciting self-composed poetry on the spot! 

Here, I salute to all who have gone through the illness, and have in their own ways emerged from their battle with the illness, some still fighting on to pursue their ambitions in life. Thank you for allowing me to glimpse the tenacity of the human spirit in overcoming the odds. I know I will never be able to fully grasp or appreciate the anguish experienced whilst you continue to shoulder the burden of the impact. Yet, my little bit of understanding have help shed the stereotypical notions I held in the past. I want to remember that there are unique strengths waiting to be uncovered, and hope that acceptance for self and from others will come in midst of the recovery process.

* See web article “Top 5 mad genius” http://health.howstuffworks.com/mental-health/mental-disorders/mad-genius6.htm

° EPIP – Early Psychosis Intervention Programme

When was the last time I did something for the first time?

Umm……let’s see. Was it yesterday? Oh yes! This is definitely a first and possibly also the last. Took a ride in the reverse bungee at Clarke Quay a week ago. Oh my God! I thought I died! Pulse rate must have been at least 150. Didn’t think I would survive the ride. Boy! Was I glad to make it back to terra firma in one piece. This is one experience which will certainly be my first and LAST!!

On a more positive note, a first experience that I would like to repeat is the gondola ride on Grand Canal in Venice, early last month. Dreamy! On of the ‘must do again’ before too long.

Cliché as the saying may sound, life is indeed short. Of late, I have heard from friends of distressing and saddening news about family members being afflicted with cancer. Somehow, that led me to reflect on the passing of someone who was very dear and special to me.

I remember walking into the hospital room. The look on his face, all-sunken and hollow, his body all frail and skeletal with only just a layer of his flesh that was as thin as the sheets which laid flat over his motionless body. The tears that welled up in my eyes at the sight of him came flowing without cue. I fell to my knees and held tightly onto his hand that had turned cold. No amount of human touch was going to bring back the warmth that once filled it.

I had spoken to him on the phone just earlier in the week, hearing about the increase in morphine and the discomfort he had with the phlegm building up at the back of his throat. The doctors had prescribed him with coca-cola so that he would be able to expel the phlegm. The discomfort sounded trivial compared to the pain he had to endure with the chemotherapy and body aches. Yet, he had never complained about those pains simply going about his day with keeping himself abreast with the current affairs. Across the phone, he had asked if I had read up about the news in Taiwan as he was keeping pace with it. When questioned about his treatment, he shared that he will be heading home later in the week and was craving for his favourite braised beef noodles though he doubted having much of an appetite. I told him that I will call again in few days time. The shock came when I received a call whilst at work that his condition had taken a turn for the worse. It was a bleak Thursday morning when the call came through; I immediately booked myself on the next available flight due to fly out in the evening. Of all the flights back home, this was indeed one of the longest. My thoughts were filled with all forms of emotions and memories. Yet all the prayers amounted to nothing for my worst fears had come true. By the time I reached his bedside the sight that greeted me was beyond my imagination. He had lost so much weight and the gaunt composure made it somewhat difficult to recognize him. I cursed myself for not boarding an earlier flight, I blamed myself for not having spent more time by his side. Most of all, I hated myself for all the fights and arguments that I had with him when I was younger. His departure made me realize how trivial our fights were.

All this happened three years ago, though memories of him do not fill my mind as often, they still come to mind whenever I listen to old records that he used to enjoy listening to. The music from Sound of Music reminds me of the yearly video viewing we had as a family. How all of us would sing to the tunes. Even the melodious tunes from Teresa Teng would conjure up images of him serenading to my mom at the last family reunion where all relatives had gathered together. The track was 月亮代表我的心. It may be a little too late but I do want to say thank you to him for he had been there in my formative years. One lasting memory that stuck at the back of my mind, where I felt our bond strengthen, was when he had agreed to be a subject in a study I had for my adult developmental psychology module in university. The research project required me to interview someone to understand their developmental life-stages. He had shared with me stories of his childhood years in rural Singapore, his growing up years in an extended family of 14 other siblings and his years of independence whilst studying in Australia followed by settling down and migrating back to Australia. All those insightful sharing made me identify with him even more. Though cancer may have taken him away from us, I am thankful for all the words of encouragement he had given me.

 On this anniversary date, I dedicate this to all those who have family members faced with medical ailments, do cherish the time with your loved ones before it is too late. Most of all, I dedicate this to the loving memory of one of the most special person in my life… Dad, I love you.

Live your life such that you will have no regrets when you look back.

This has been a guiding phrase; a reminder to myself, of how I want to live my life. It wasn’t easy to follow all the time; looking back, there were regrets, but the regrets also played an important part in my personal growth, as a student, a daughter, a friend, a partner, and now, a young mother.

Speaking of my role as a young mother, there is this particular regret over a thought that I had entertained, the feelings that I had harbored and a behavior that I had displayed...

Back then, I thought I had found the balance in juggling the demands of work and a new baby. I had established a routine, and my life became quite predictable – wake up at 6am, bring my baby to my in-laws to care by 7am, reach work by 8am, leave work for home punctually at 5:30pm, and attended to my baby till bedtime. I had a lot of help from my family, but there came this day when I began dreading the idea of going home because I dread the idea of being with my baby. Yet, when I managed to drag myself home, I felt relieved and happy to be at home and with my baby. And I would find myself quite silly for not coming home earlier. However, the next day, the feelings of not wanting to go home followed by feeling happy upon reaching home would repeat, which eventually became part of a routine in my life.

Thankfully, this whole experience was short-lived. The halt to my confused array of feelings became about this day, when I had reached home, and realized from my mother-in-law that my baby had fallen asleep while waiting for my return from work. Apparently, my baby had also established a routine – everyday 630pm, she would pester (in her babbling) my mother-in-law to bring her to the window where she could get a glance of the route that I usually take to go home. For the past two weeks, she had waited faithfully for my return, no matter how I late I’ll return. This particular day, however, she fell asleep while waiting for me.

The moment I heard this, tears welled up in my eyes and I’ll never forget that sense of guilt which engulfed me. I took over my baby, gave her a tight hug, which woke her up. Instead of crying, she flashed me a smile and let out a faint squeal of delight.

It was that day that changed the way I had viewed my life as a mother for the past two weeks. I thought I had no life, only rushing between work and baby. In reality, I have a sweet life, one that is of unconditional love, waiting for me everyday.

That day on, I became more appreciative of my baby, and cherished every moment that I get to spend with her. It was a hard lesson learnt, but a good one.

In school, my most feared zone was the staffroom. I was more comfortable blending into the background, avoiding any possibility of being in the spotlight. Staffroom was akin to having floodlights on you. (yes, I know it’s bizarre, it’s delusional, that was how I felt then) I associated it with fear and avoided it as far as possible even though I am definitely not the sort that could get into trouble with teachers (hmm… then again, is it because of the homework that I always conveniently forget to do? Perhaps my selective memory at work)

With peers, there was difficulty. I took little or no initiative. I had friends but was nowhere near the popularity list. Residing in the depths of my memories is an unpleasant episode in Primary 4 where my best friend (or so I thought…) ostracised me, together with the whole gang of friends for a reason so painful that I don’t have the courage to say here. I think it took such a long time getting over it, that for years, I always had a nagging fear that people will not ‘friend’ me. And you know how at that age, ‘don’t friend you’ is a catch-phrase.

Needless to say, I get pangs of trepidation in situations where I have to make presentations in a class. I supposed I got by, as the education system then was more pen and paper style. I couldn’t run away from presentations in my tertiary education and I found, to my horror, that you were supposed to contribute comments and ask questions which counted to your grading under the category of participation in class. It was like floodlights on me all over again, and magnifying all the flaws within me.

A friend taught me this technique – Always answer the few first questions in class as they are the easiest, get-it-over-and-done-with and you can be assured that the teacher will note your participation. Easy to say. In practice, summoning the courage to shout out your answer in the tutorial group was daunting. The heart starts pounding, the anxiety grows inside my lungs, the breathlessness and trembling follows. By the time, I get round to being ready, the lesson would have gotten into the full swing, and the simpler questions all answered!

Till today, the same process will go on within me, when it’s my turn to present at work or when I have a burning question that I want to ask during a training course in a room full of strangers. There was once the anticipatory process had consumed me that for the rest of the course, I became a nervous wreck and had to deal with my disappointment of my cowardly response and not getting my question answered!

I got pretty resigned to feeling anxious and attributed it to my character. Yes! Blame it on nature. With the acceptance, I became less hard on myself. I realised it gets easier when I warm up to familiar people. Sometimes, I tell myself to take the risk and that I have yet died from shame or embarrassment.  Now, I’m able to talk in a room of strangers if I want to, so long I kind of ‘psych’ myself, giving myself some positive talk. Still, the anxiety lurks.

In seeking to understand my experience, I asked many questions inward.

Anxiety stems from an anticipatory fear of danger. Here in the context of making presentations, could the danger be perceived as the negative evaluations of others? Is that why when there is safety (in form of familiar people), then the anxiety is reduced? Does that mean that my primary sense of self is unloved? Am I lacking a sense of security? Am I a victim of self-critic at work?

I was thus surprised when a very articulate, confident ex-colleague shared about his experience. He had felt nervous in the face of everyone's attention on him. The calm and composure that I had seen, was in translated in his terms as pauses in wrong places and a trembling voice.

“But you looked so calm and you were doing a perfectly good job!” I wailed in response.

His reply to me, “I thought you were always doing very well too.”

My only conclusion for now:

It is human to experience anxiety.

It was drizzling and the weather was perfect for bed.

I was in the bus, on the way to work, wishing I could snuggle in with a cup of hot chocolate and a good book in hand.

As I stare forlornly into space, U2’s Beautiful Day started playing on my Ipod. I don’t usually take notice of lyrics but this particular portion of the song caught my attention

See the world in green and blue
See China right in front of you
See the canyons broken by cloud
See the tuna fleets clearing the sea out
See the Bedouin fires at night
See the oil fields at first light
And see the bird with a leaf in her mouth
After the flood all the colors came out

It reminds me on how much we’ve taken Mother Earth for granted. Lately, I’ve been reading issue after issue of the National Geographic. The contents never deviate much- the near extinction of certain species, how water is getting scarcer and scarcer, our climate is getting more and more unstable, etc.

It’s quite disconcerting, especially when we have more and more of movies about the end of the world showing in our theatres. But it’s also given me a new found appreciation on how majestic our Earth is – providing sanctuary to millions of amazing animal and plant species, providing food and resource for humans to evolve over millions of years and so much more.

Its unfortunate how our own recklessness and ignorance are slowly destroying the one place that has been sustaining us over the years. I shudder as I think about the state of our Earth that our future generation might be living in. But, let’s not think too much. Hopefully, with the advent of science and technology, our future may not look so bleak after all. In the meanwhile, though I may not experience first hand the breathtaking sight of the canyon, or the fleeting of the tuna in the sea, I’ll count my blessing and will cherish the cleansing feeling after a rain and the smell of health from staying under the sun, before the rain becomes frequent violent storms, and the sun too hot to bear.

Some years ago, I had two tumours. It was an agonising two months or so as I went through various tests and procedures to check if they were malignant. And, if they were, how advanced was it. I remember vividly one day when I was driving home after my medical appointment at the National University Hospital. As I was driving along the ECP, it suddenly it dawned on me what a beautiful day it was – the sky was the bluest of blue, the flowers by the roadside were beckoning to me in their brilliant colours and the sea out there, was glistening like jewels under the sun!

Then, it hit me ... what if I had cancer and it was too advanced to be treated  ...and  I was not going to be around for much longer to enjoy all this beauty around me! Thankfully, as it turned out, the tumours were benign and I live to share with you this little life lesson. We take many things like our health, our family and friends, the  beauty around us – for granted, until we lose them or in my case, about to lose them. This need not be the case. Learn from me!

And yet despite the countless squabbles and misunderstandings we’ve had over these 12 years, I am always drawn to her. There was something about her that made me think her special. She was always the life of any party. Always ready with a quick-witted retort to get everyone in stitches at her audacity. It was like nothing fazed her. She took pride in being bitchy and gossipy, but in the most likable way possible, if that makes any sense.

Yet her hugs made you feel like there was an old soul inside that bubbly cotton-candy facade. Surely it gets tiring once in a while being the life of the party. As far as I could tell, she kept up that persona even around her boyfriends and best friends.

Me being the annoying “come let’s talk about your feelings” kind of person had tried on a few occasions to lure her into peeling back some of those defences. We went for a late night picnic in April this year and it felt like she wanted to open up. Then she disappeared. Withdrew.

I was concerned but gave her space to breathe.

Blogs these days often seem to be a space for people to parade their cute photos and flaunt their romances, and it’s becoming rarer to read a really raw, vulnerable entry. Diana wrote one this week. (Yes, I got her permission to share this here.)

 

I had a long talk with my mum.

My mum told me when I was a little girl, barely 3 or 4 years old, I had an affection towards the black crayon. I would draw an apple and colour it black. I would draw a house and colour it black. I coloured everything black and I would draw the sun and clouds at the bottom of drawing block and sketch my black grasses at the top. She got worried and thought I was colour blind so she decided to send me for art classes at the CC nearby. I remembered getting scolded and was sort of forced to use beige to colour a person's face and colour my carrots orangey.

I grew out of black eventually when I moved on to primary school.

Years back when my mum was still teaching at the kindergarten, she attended child psychology seminars, and it was then she found out that my black drawings meant something. I was the only child she had who coloured in black. And she said I was not a very happy child and that I was already starting to put on a facade then. She said I was eccentric and am still.

"Own mother also cannot understand you. Sometimes like this...sometimes like that. I think you act happy when you know you are not," my mum confessed.

As my mum tried to tell me about me, I cringed.

Black. Seriously?

Am I not someone full of rainbow colours and bubbly sparks and endless laughters that will light up the whole room? What is it that I am hiding? What makes me happy? Why do I disappear when I get emotional? How is it that I can transit in between different social masks and still appear sane.

Who is the Diana you know/knew? And which of these masks portrays the truest me?

I don't know anymore.

 

Today I invited her to be my +1 for a Saturday night party a colleague invited me to. Her reply explaining why she wouldn’t be able to join me revealed something she’d been keeping to herself for a while now. Something scary and painful her family is going through now. Because of this, she’s also had to put aside her original plan to commence her Mass Comm degree this month in Australia. I teared when I read her sms.

It’s incredible how much burden a person can carry on their own and even more incredible how they manage to conceal it so well from the rest of the world. I have respect for the way she’s handled herself - she generally loves attention and the spotlight, yet is matured enough to not play the victim like some would.

But at the same time I hope she is able to recognise when to put aside that sunflower act if it ever becomes more a liability than a protection. I hope she hangs on and finds the truest her.

This entry is dedicated to Diana, a pretty kickass person.

The launch of CHAT was a success!

Held last Saturday, at the *Scape Playground, the launch drew quite a large crowd of mostly youths, with various performances, fun game booths and the flea market.

Despite the relentless sun, I had great fun interacting with the crowd and trying out the activities at the games booths (well, kinda. I was more of a spectator than an active participant.)

I was very encouraged and pleasantly surprised that our youths showed great interest in our new programme, CHAT. I’ve always assumed that youths are indifferent towards mental health issues and will only deal with them when crisis strikes. It also got me thinking if their awareness and interest could be due to the increasing pressure our youths feel these days.

It is not uncommon to hear people lament that somebody’s son or someone’s daughter had a “breakdown” because of the mounting stress from school, peers etc. A lot are expected of them – competition is stiffer when it comes to applying for a university of their choice or a job, more youths are pressured by their peers to get involved in a relationship at a much younger age and the list goes on.

I’m glad there is CHAT to cater to the needs of our youths. More importantly, I’m glad our youths are taking much interest and initiative on issues of mental health, so cheers to that!

The day was Saturday. The date was 26^th Jun 2010. The skies still looming with dark clouds from a week of rain where Orchard Rd became River Orchard. Where was I to be found? It could have been the sweet comforts of sleeping snuggly under the doona or out lazing under the sun by the beach? Surprisingly, I was neither in bed nor at the beach. I had ventured into the crowdiest of crowds and become another face along Orchard Rd. But I was not just a face for I had gone with a purpose like the many youth workers that have adorned the creative looking CHAT shirt at the Playground *SCAPE Building. We were there for the launch of the CHAT hub.

Word around the corner was that this will be an event filled with promising interactive activities that would engage all FIVE senses. Sense of sight, hearing, touch, smell and taste!! Can you believe it?!? An event that stokes our five senses?? Watching a movie usually engages only 2 senses, that of, sight and sound; and on occasions 3 senses – the sense of touch depending on whether the person seated next to me decides to pinch or squeeze at my arm. Even with the 3D interactive screening of Shrek at Universal Studios, it only managed to satisfy four senses. So to be treated to the works of having all five senses stimulated, how could I possibly pass up on such an opportunity?

Honestly, I had never been to *Scape Building and would have never gone there to shop for this was a place ventured only by youths. I have good insight that I am no longer a youth and not forgetting all the occasions where I have been teased by my fellow peers about being “D.O.M” in the making (inside joke for those who knows ;p). So when I reached the venue and started seeing green balloons and new faces with CHAT shirts along with a flea market and live band, I was a little taken aback at the buzz of excitement and energy that filled the venue. Desperately searching amongst the crowds for a familiar face… I found the registration booth and quickly walked towards it. There were so many other booths.

I was told that I could collect button badges from each of the booths and appending them to the card. There were also lots of goodies displayed at the table. I thought I would be adventurous and took up the challenge to fill up 6 cards!! First stop – the sense of hearing – was fulfilled by a sound booth. The challenge was to scream at the top of your lungs. I gasped at this for I spotted on the computer screen that there were people who had registered 140dB (decibels that is equivalent to a jet taking off or gunshot)!!!! Yowser…. I tried and failed miserably…But the effort was rewarded with my first badge.

The other booths were equally interesting but what was most enjoyable was that of the 5x5 Rubiks cube. One face of the Rubiks cube that I liked best was that of the mascot, Mebbit. I had ventured back to this booth repeatedly during my duty just to find out if anyone had managed to solve the puzzle. It was towards the later part of the evening that I learnt that a little boy had managed to solve one side of the cube and pieced Mebbit together.

This was indeed a Knotty Affair for I met many new people, many of whom were youths, and had wonderful conversations with new and old friends. The development and launch of the Chat Hub is thus of the purpose of providing youth friendly resources to help young people understand mental health and how to recognise if they or their friends may be facing mental health issues. So why not take the opportunity to come into the Hub to visit?

CHAT is a one-stop centre providing mental health resources, assessment and professional help for adolescents and young adults aged 16 to 30.

I was strongly enchanted by the fine species that strutted the green carpets. Head held high, gait impeccable, features so delicate, every move in command of the handler that was never said in words. Instructions were communicated on nothing more than the leash and treats. Every dog exhibited a desire to win, yet seemed too proud to ask for it.

The shows were spectacular with each running in tandem. There were simply too much to be captured by mere human eyes. Having laid my eyes on these beautiful breeds, I never look at dogs the same way again. Each breed has its standard to meet and a long history that comes with it.

My first real experience with dog shows was in 2008. By saying “real experience”, I meant more than the vicarious thrill – I actually participated in the show, with my terrier, of course. Behind the glamorous visage laid a long arduous journey of preparation work. Aside from grooming and training, endorphin-inducing exercise and strict diet were not to be trifled with. The up keeping of a show dog that took what seemed like ten years of work was to compete in the championship ring that seemed to last less than a minute.

Looking up into the night skies, I see the stars. Each taking its place, blinking and sparkling away without care of the universe. Transmitting messages from thousands of light years ago. I closed my eyes and hoped that my message will be received too, perhaps one day. (Book of Equinox Skies)

“ 2884!! Wah-lau, how can this be?? First prize!! See-see, last number missing only! Suay*-lah. Even 4D is against me, damn bad luck. Cannot buy the new car liaoz”

Exhausted from a busy day at work, I gnawed quietly at my dinner and noticed myself grinning as I overheard the loud conversation coming from the other end of the coffee shop. Almost most of us must have heard such remarks after the opening results from the last 4D draw. It is commonly followed by “I had the right sequence but that last digit did not appear on my ticket.” Those who purchased their tickets would stare long and hard at the tickets in hand and even harder at the newspaper print as if their intense stares might somehow change the numbers. What was interesting was the exasperation from those who cursed at their poor luck. To divert my attention away from the subsequent curses and derision on how the system is corrupted, I found my thoughts drifting to my clients.

What made this day different and exhausting was that after each consult, it was followed by a knock at the door. The heads that peeked through were that of family members. They looked in furtively whilst their loved ones were at the appointment counter and asked for a moment of my time.The questions followed in an even quicker manner.

 “So how was his progress today?”, “How could this have happened to him/her, was it due to the employer or schoolwork?”

Countless occasions families have expressed their exasperations and spelled doom to their loved ones’ conditions. Their resigned tones echoed through as they ventilated over their worries of future employers, partners or friends in learning about their loved ones’ mental condition. I sensed a slight petulance from deep within when parents seem to demand instant results, externalizing the blame to everyone and everything around them. Ever so unaware that their over-zealous need for immediate recoveries may somehow place further pressures on their loved ones. I wondered to myself as to what about such interactions irritated me. Was it their unreasonable demands, their lack of faith in their loved ones or them delaying me from seeing the next client? What surprises me was that many of the clients have greater perseverance and determination to overcome their difficulties.

At that moment, as I walked passed the table that was discussing over the 4D results, I heard the coffee lady comment “That is life”. Indeed, that is life for it is natural for people to 'cry over their losses'. Yet, without the opportunity to grief and cry, it will be hard not to recover. As for my slight irritation, I figured that I too was also mourning for the time taken away from each patient. I too was expecting that families will be more understanding to their loved ones' predicaments. As I strolled home, I made a mental note to myself, C'est la vie..

"Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves" Carl Jung

I guess by now readers would have realized that I fall into the ‘kiasi’ category of the typical Singaporeans. Yes, literally ‘afraid of death’. Even as a youth, (am still is)… or even during the adolescent phase, the term ‘omnipotent adolescent’ has never been applicable to me, probably much to the relief of my parents. Being careful has kept me safe and sound. Yet it has shortchanged me, because when I think about things that I have done for the first time, I couldn’t remember anything exciting or worthy of interest, not to say the least, on the topic of the last time I did something for the first time. I don’t suppose anyone would be interested in the first time I drank alcohol, go to a pub or learn to drive. (all at a late age!).

So risk taking has never been a venture for me. Yet, in my job, I am always getting people to take risks, encouraging them to open up themselves to a stranger who they hardly know, bring up issues they may not have dared share before or try out new experiences. That does seems like I am in a 2-faced position where I am not practicing what I am preaching, doesn’t it?

Strange as it sounds but now that I’ve skipped the omnipotence stage of adolescent, I am relatively more game at trying out new things. Though the operant word here is - relatively… Sorry, you will not be getting courageous stories of ‘Parkour’ or ‘Yamakasi’ here. I do not think that I am a late developer, rather what may have made the difference is that with each year in passing, I am more aware of the time lost or the remaining that will be lost, more so after hearing unfortunate news, one after another, of people that I know, falling ill; diabetes, stroke, cancer, glaucoma. And so there is some irony in the term ‘Kiasi-ism’; because I am afraid of death, it’s time for me to seize the day.

I notice too that with every new experience accumulated, I am also more positive of experimenting with new things. This fits well with the concept a reputable family therapist from UK brought up in a conference I attended recently. He proposed that:

Change

=

A commitment to experimenting with a difference

+

Action

+

Repetition

+

Time

(Barry Mason, 2010)

What had helped in my personal experience to start it all is probably the encouragement that I have been getting from people around me, people who have more faith than I have in myself. People who tell me that ‘You can’ and hold the hope for me. It is also less scary to start when you tell yourself that it’s all at an experimental stage and not have too high hopes as well.

Of course, it is not going to change me overnight into a totally different persona. I am still very cautious, conservative and lack the fabled energy that youths are supposed to have, with no delusions about my own omnipotence. But at least I have not lived in vain.

I plan to hold on to the hope for my clients who have given up. And maybe, in time to come, I’ll have the courage to start learn swimming.

Carpe diem quam minime credula postero

A colleague recently asked if I’d like to accompany her to Chin Swee Road for a home visit. She knew I’d been curious about 1 room flats and the people who occupied them.

I grew up in a middle-class environment. I was not spoiled, but always comfortable. As a child in a private school, it wasn’t uncommon to see other kids with chauffeurs or have a play date in a friend’s lavish bungalow (other kids lah, not me). I was under the false impression that no one was poor or disadvantaged in Singapore.

I went to a neighbourhood school later on and I remember being acutely aware one morning during assembly when the disciplinary master quite inappropriately took to the mike to call out by name individual students who needed financial assistance for that term. It was my first memory of realizing that some people really struggled in this utopia-like country. But as a self-absorbed teenager, I felt empathy for them for a moment before returning to my own trivial dramas.

Since then, I’ve had conversations with street artists, painted nails and did henna with refugee girls, shared food with beggars, learnt salsa from a homeless Hare Krishna devotee. But none of these experiences were here at home. Singapore was still the world of shiny shopping malls and bright immaculate people in my eyes.

I didn’t know what to expect from this area. We were greeted by a puddle of vomit in a corner of the lift and I was apprehensive. The corridor was gloomy and silent, and a wheelchair sat forlornly against a pipe, secured with a padlock to deter those callous enough to steal it. The outdated Chinese New Year decorations gave it a depressing feel as well.

But then we met the people.

Because we initially were unable to reach the clients we’d come to see, we started knocking on neighbours’ doors. A handsome teenager shyly helped us out. We also met a smiley old lady whose legs were so weak she had to drag herself along her floor to open her door. We apologized profusely for bothering her but she cheerily brushed aside our concerns, heaved herself up to her feet with some difficulty, and unlocked her gate to come out to help us. She was the most good-natured person I’d met all month! I bet if we had asked her, she would have happily let us sit in her house and would have been a lovely host :)

Both the 1-room flats I saw were surprisingly nice. The occupants took pride in their living quarters and utilized the space well. Clean, neat, with basic needs…they made it feel like a home. I was impressed and for some reason, touched.

This area was a mere 5 minutes from my favorite foot reflexology place and yet I’d never known it existed. Old shops and old people galore (all looking amazingly fit) occupied this street.

For the first time I scratched a tiny bit of the surface of our spic and span exterior, and was greeted by a tough yet warm character that also makes up our Singapore. I realized that it was not about how rich or poor we are sometimes, but with the right spirit, even a room becomes a home.

One word

By itself means nothing

In a sentence, out of context, it changes

Possible of morphing into all forms conniving

One word is all takes

Anger, irritation and disappointment at the state of things

Nothing said nor done seem to mend

For feelings of abandonment lingers

Bringing with it a sense of loneliness that felt throughout

In the late of night

Where all peace and quiet follows

What is seemingly tranquil is never quieten

For the mind throws itself into an endless spin

Drained and tortured by that

One single, isolated word

Just got back from a long awaited and much anticipated vacation, with great memories of fabulous places, finger licking food and wonderful people.

There is something that really made me appreciate that good people are all around us:

I walked into this shop which had a tiny information sign at a corner. It was manned by an elderly gentleman with a smiling countenance. I asked him a few questions about ways of getting to a nearby ski slope. Well, I got the names wrong (can’t speak German) and soon both of us were befuddled. To my pleasant surprise, he got out a rally large map and wrote down a few names for me. Then he asked me to follow him outside the shop, across the road and to the nearest tram stop. He waited with me till the correct tram (fortunately the next one) arrived, spoke to the driver and told me ‘everything ok, enjoy’. The tram driver dropped me at the correct stop with a smile and I had a wonderful time, made even better by the warmth and caring exhibited by the gentleman at the info counter. He went beyond what was necessary to ensure that I had a good time.

Thank you for reviving my faith in the innate goodness of people.

sleepingbeauty

10:30am

I only managed to strike one item off my to-do list today. Already, my stomach’s growling. I love it when the weather is cold. But I hate it too, because it makes my hunger grow.

10:35am

I sneaked out of the cubicle with my wallet, just so to grab a bite from the canteen. Suddenly, I realized I need to visit the ATM machine for some ready cash.

10:40am

What the?! I took a slower walk back, hungry, angry, never feeling so broke like today. Walking up to my friend, I sheepishly asked for some spare cash. To my horror, I wonder “How could this happen to me?!” when my friend sheepishly replied too, that she had just enough for a home visit later in the day.

I must have looked really pathetic, with the words HUNGRY appearing on my forehead and cheeks, as she then took out her coin bank and start digging out some coins for me!

10:58am

I’m enjoying a packet of fried rice now as I blog. Thanks to my friend; she managed to lend me $2 and tide me through my morning hunger pangs.

To my friend:  Thanks, Girl! You know who you are if you are reading this.

11:00am

End of my post, and I’ve finished eating too. How nice! Now, back to work.

P.S. Never underestimate the simple things in life – good friends and coins. Seriously, I should have a coin bank at my desk too – for rainy days.

flipflop

I tried to imagine myself in her circumstance and I think it can be very hard for me not to be angry with God, fate or whatever. I’m afraid that I might turn out to be a bitter and jaded individual. But she, I’ve never felt even an ounce of bitterness from her throughout my year working with her.

Though she did confide in me that she feels tired sometimes, she has never expressed anger or disappointment on how life has treated her. On the contrary, there seems to be an inner peace that comes with accepting how her life unfolds, which I believe gives her the added strength to optimize her potential.

This particular client of mine has definitely taught me a valuable life lesson. Dwelling over a problem and questioning why misfortunes have to happen to us will not lead us anywhere. What we need to do is to get up, brush our knees and keep on walking.

I had a lecturer from overseas who had ever remarked – “Don’t get too attached to a tree in Singapore because the next moment, it may be chopped off.”

The pace in our urban city life has been swift. Case in point, I was trying to retrieve my memories of my childhood haunts and compare it to what I see now. Nearly all have undergone transformative changes.

I went back to my favorite childhood haunt recently – a neighbourhood library and indulged in another of my contemplative moments, trying to relieve the nostalgia, only to realize that it took a whole lot of effort and imagination to try to recreated the scene because the same space had been creatively utilised to the bright-lit, cozy libraries that you see now, where food, once a big no-no, is allowed within a restricted area. Not that I am complaining…

The humble plastic library card has also evolved. Gone are the days where we use paper cards and of long queues where librarians will be struggling to check out the books. I have clearer images of a simple laminated card with a barcode; with librarians still struggling to keep up with the long queues. I remember how my sister and I would take turns queuing up the first thing we would get to the library so that we can browse for the books to borrow, just so to cut the waiting time; a far cry from the current version of quick self-service to loan books, and the flexibility of using our ICs in replacement of the card.

And what of A & Ws, or the mushroom swiss burger from Burger King that is double the size of today? Or creaky old, non air-con SBS buses with the buzzers that my brother and I used to fight over to press? What happened to 25cents feeder bus services? 

Here I paused. Because rambling on will just reveal how ancient I am.

The other day I was at a Breadtalk outlet and noticed my rising impatience to a counter girl who took slightly more than 5 minutes to attend to me, being the second in queue, as she was juggling with packing cakes and bread and collecting cash. Her nervousness in face of the mounting line that had formed was betrayed by her trembling hands and pork floss from the bread was flying in all directions, much to the chagrin of the customer in front of me.

Then I recalled the difficulty that my clients face, coping in the jobs, when they return to the workforce, after battling with a bout of illness. I wonder how many of them struggle similarly with the demands of customers, typical Singaporean responses of wanting quick and good service, similar to how I have expected it. 

It seems like the same rush that has brought efficiency and comfort living has heightened our expectations and shortened the fuse. Quick service, if not, quick tempers.

I am guilty of going into a numbness chase and many a times have regretted the my own reaction – a care-less attitude, or a snappy reaction when the alternative of spending a few seconds to show concern or to just slow down may add a more human touch.

And yes, how true my lecturer is - just recently I was admiring the flowers on a tree at my workplace, only to witness a stump where the same tree was just a few weeks later.

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

                                                William Henry Davis

Even when the intricate escapement of a time piece comes to a standstill, time continues to run. Time waits for no one.

What is time? A cosmologist would understand it as changes in the Universe and movement of the planets. Through the eyes of a physicist, time is defined as distance divided by velocity. If you ask a historian, it is a series of remarkable events that happened in our lives. A geologist would explain that it is a range of events or changes occurring on Earth over different time zones.

It is 12:39 on a Monday in the office, which means in another six minutes I will be attending the talk in the lecture hall. At 13:30, I will be thinking of what to have for lunch and then queuing up in the canteen. Lunch will be over soon and I will be back at work. At 18:00, I will be making my way home and, hopefully, asleep by 23:00. Tomorrow will be Tuesday and I will push the snooze button on the alarm at 05:10. The routine repeats itself for the rest of the weekdays. Perhaps, I may head to the gym or indulge in a scrumptious dinner after work along the week. Long comes Friday - the best time of the week because it holds promise to the weekend to come. Every weekend is a time to recharge for the new week.

I know that time is passing me by as I watch my watch moves; the clock ticks; the numbers change on the calendar. Every second passes so quickly and never come to a moment of halt. The first day at work feels like just yesterday and I realise how long I have been in work. No matter what I do, time still slips by without waiting for me. The things that happen now form the trace in my life, leading to my personal life story. When time is moving so fast, I lose track of the story. Only when I slow down do I get to read the chapters in this story.

As I take time to reminiscence the good old times and the unpleasant past, I see how far I have come. It is through this experience - good or bad, happy or sad - that I learnt not to be racing with time.

Take a breather and think: what have you achieved and what have you missed... So what is your life story?

Time passes much too slowly

Too many stuff to do. Too little time. For every ten minutes that I spend doing overtime at work, I would have to drive 10 km/hour faster to make sure that I’m on time for other off-work commitments.

Yesterday was not an exception. Once again, I was rushing from work back to home, trying to beat the traffic lights at every junction. Something about the song that was playing on Class 95FM caught my attention.  

“…Time passes much too slowly…Time passes much too slowly…”

I felt myself smiling. I wondered when was the last time I felt that time passes much too slowly for me.

It must have been during the exam period when I was sure I have cracked all the answers I could think of for the exam questions, but there seemed to be still a lot of time left. And others would still be furiously writing away in their papers. Or when I had to go for blood testing, where the nurse would always promise, “this won’t take long,” but I just felt that she took forever.

As the traffic lights went on green, I started to give my car some fuel to get it going again. However, I began to slow down the acceleration, and tried to be more aware of the driving experience, instead of driving for the sake of getting to where I want to go. Gradually, I began to enjoy the driving, watching the trees that breeze past, the people jogging by, and the dimming sunlight.

When I arrived at my destination, I realized I was early, even when I slowed down with the driving. However, unlike the past few days, I felt more relaxed and happy. Most importantly, I could also share with my family some of the interesting things that I noticed on my way home.

Life in the fast lane? It didn’t hurt to slow down a little.

If only life is as simple as day, where the sun rises from the east and sets in the west. But life is never that simple for many things are beyond our control. Darkness always seems to be lurking in the background; striking and consuming one ever so quickly.  

(Book of Equinox Skies)

Driving through the tunnel in my little speedy car I felt the restraint over my leg from plummeting it fully to the floor. I maintained my speed at 70km/h. That is the speed limit imposed within this tunnel. Was it the watchful eyes of the speed cameras that are honed upon every car that passes through its surveillance? Or could it be the law-abiding citizen part of me wanting not want to overstep the boundaries of the law. In a split second, a thought flashed through my mind, “wouldn’t it be fantastic if I could just speed through at 90km/h with my windows wound down?” Words from the cartoon character, Speedy Gonzales resonated through my mind “Andale! Andale! Arriba! Arriba! Yii-hah!”

The thrill of speeding through the freeways and through the tunnel would have been such an exhilarating experience. Yet it was such an excruciating pain having to endure the need for speed for the long stretch through the tunnel. The ride through the tunnel went for a good 12 minutes before I was able to resume the 90km/hr speed limit.

The drive though short, gave me time to reflect on a multitude of matters. One of which being, is this how it is like for people that are on mood stabilizers? Mood stabilisers are medications commonly used to treat bipolar disorders.

To help maintain an individual’s mood in preventing and reducing the frequency and severity of the mood fluctuations. This topsy-turvy rollercoaster ride reported by those individuals whom I meet in my regular interactions is an all too familiar concept. Many have shared that when they are on medications, the thrill to their life seems to diminish. They enjoyed the high, the joy and euphoria where they felt the sensation that nothing was impossible. Now, they have to cope with the constant monotone to their moods which seems all too mundane. In some cases, the side effects of nausea, weight gain amongst many others that accompany the use of medication. Why then stick with medication for the excitement and delight with an upward swing to the moods guarantees so much possibilities. 

I found myself identifying with this thought (for I felt the urge to push down on the gas pedal. Yet, I resisted the urge to speed). I guess the answer lies in consistency and regularity for though the appeal of the upward lift to ones’ moods may be seem alluring (almost like the urge to speed). The consequences of straying off course from one’s medication regime is simply too grave. There are too many occasions where I have heard of rash behaviour during a manic phase resulting in overspending, accidents and even deaths. To akin the struggles of bipolar disorder to that of momentary experience within the tunnel in having to maintain a speed limit, equivalent to a crawl speed, is doing the illness injustice.

Regardless of the reasons to my decision in not speeding what mattered was that I came out from the tunnel unscathed. Similarly, the decision to stay on course with medication is unimportant. For the bottom line is that one has lived through the day without being troubled by the illness!

Some sites to visit on blogs of individuals with bipolar disorders or caregivers of individuals with bipolar disorders - http://www.healthcentral.com/bipolar/weblogs.html

I got completely caught up in the fact that I could get into the club for free at the back door, that the bouncers would greet me, and that the band would wave to me. I felt so important.

I let it all get to my head and revelled shallowly in these meaningless moments. I put far too much value in this...image I had created and painstakingly put up photos on Facebook to parade my new party lifestyle. When really, who the heck cares?

And still, I let it validate me as a person.

But life in the fast lane...it’s kinda lonely at the end of the day. When you’re moving that fast, you never connect with anyone. All the friends I had then...I’m no longer in contact with.

And you know how they say that alcohol can eat away at your brain? I actually felt that way for the first time in my life – my mind was muddled, days disappeared into each other, I couldn’t remember what I had done 24hrs before, I felt slowed down in my ability to read and think. You could say I was losing my personality and become 2-dimensional. It was quite scary.

I also wasn’t happy – during the day I felt too tired from the night before to muster up the effort to do or care about much. I believed I was happy when I was out, but it was only because the strobe lights, the pumping bass, and the laughing faces around me can create very convincing illusions of happiness.  The best way I can think of to explain it is that when I look back, I can remember thinking I was happy but I can’t actually recall feeling happy then.

Since starting my job, I’ve completely given up that life. It’s funny how easy it was to go cold turkey on partying – just like that, snap, and I stopped accepting invitations to go to Clark Quay and even the 3 new party dresses I’d bought were relegated to the back of my wardrobe. If it was so effortless to give it up, then I guess it mustn’t have been that much fun after all hey.

My lifestyle these days though, might be on the other extreme, which might not be ideal either. If I’m not at work, I’m at home. My ‘fun’ comes from experimenting in the kitchen now and I’ve become complacent about hanging out with friends (the real ones, not the party ones). I guess it’s time to find that elusive in-between point for myself now, right?

Sigh. How do so many people make it look so easy!

Ok...tell you what - when I achieve that balance in my life, I’ll let you know :)

Taking this literally, I know of some people who when they are out on the roads, they must take the outer most lane – the lane for motorists when they want to overtake “slow coaches” like me.

I get a cheap thrill when I get up to pull up side by side at the traffic junction with these motorists who had earlier sounded their horn in irritation or flashed their headlights at me for being in their way. To me, it’s like “so what, you get to your destination five or 10 minutes earlier” – at the expense of getting all  worked up and worse, putting your life and those of other road users at risk for speeding.

Two persons I knew passed on recently, within the same month and I wouldn’t have guessed that the breath of life could disappear in just a flash.

They were both young, filled with potential but they are gone. If they knew that their life journey was going to end the way it did, would they have taken the chance to look inside their crystal ball? And would they have lead life and embrace each moment differently.

It gives me an unsettling feeling that in this world that we live in, the crystal ball does not exist and it makes me ponder on how much we devote our time and energy in worrying about ”materialistic gain”. People tend to worry about attaining the best grades, earning as much money as possible, obtaining the 5Cs, and more.  There is no issue with setting our personal goals high, but as we do that, we often forget in enjoying the journey towards the destination.

Life is unpredictable and we will never know what it has installed for each one of us. This experienced loss and resulting grief has changed my perspective on how I have been leading my life. “Why do we worry about the future, when we should be making the best use of the present?” In my “quest” to try to be the best in everything, I took for granted the small but thoughtful gestures from my loved ones. I got carried away in my goals that I have forgotten to be thankful that each morning, my heart is still pumping, my lungs are still breathing and I am still able to enjoy the adrenaline after a good run.

It may seem like we’re walking in the dark as we journey through life, but even in the darkness, I will try to make it a point to stop and enjoy the stillness and calm of the darkness.

The time I mountain-biked down the world’s most dangerous road*.

Last year, I made a spur of the moment decision to sign myself up for the notorious ride. I’m as girly as they come, haven’t seen the inside of a gym in years, and have never even been on a mountain bike. I was also alone in Bolivia, with no buddy to watch over me or hold my hand through the ordeal. 

I believe I did this simply to show myself that I could. I love backpacking and doing the crazy things backpackers do, but have always relied on partners during these trips to make it great. You know how sometimes we become so reliant on other people to provide our happiness that we forget how to be happy when we’re alone? That’s what I’m talking about.

So to the chagrin of my parents, I had embarked on this South America adventure sans a partner. I could either take control and create my own life-changing experience in this stunning continent, or I could chicken out and change the date of my return flight to, well, next plane home.

I was the only person who rocked up alone that morning at the meeting point. The two other girls (there with boyfriends) looked like tough cookies...you know, the yoga-loving, energy bar-eating sort. The six big guys were all pumped to take off.

And me? I was standing there frozen staring at the ominous fog cover that blanketed the entrance. It’s like the Latino gods put it there on purpose to freak you out even more.

Oh girl, what have you gotten yourself into?? Jia lat. Lucky I bought some $4 sneakers for the ride and didn’t wear my ballet flats as planned. You starting to get the idea of how “fit” I am for this?

The comical guide didn’t help my racing heart with his repeated warnings of, “this section now going to be most dangerous parts. Very dangerous. Welcome to….(dramatic pause)…THE DEATH ROAD!!!” And then he proceeded to let out an evil “MUAHAHAH!” laugh. I’m not kidding. He really did. No, I did not laugh along.

I quickly asked myself if I was being too foolish. No, this is do-able. It’s a matter of concentration and self-trust, and perhaps a dash of luck. Oh please luck be with me! So when the lovely guide Marcelo asked with concern, “señorita de Singapur, you ready?” I silently nodded and kicked off (ok ok, more like I slooowly peddled off).

I WAS DOING IT! I WAS I WAS! LOOK AT ME GO! :D I had a wobbly start but soon I was flying down at wild speeds, wind whooshing past my ears, my world zoomed in and consisted only of me, my thoughts, and the rocks hurtling off my front tyre.

We went under little waterfalls, past somber crosses marking spots where others hadn’t made it, avoiding rogue local bus and truck drivers, and at times I was going so fast around bends that I could feel my bike shaking precariously beneath me, just fractions away from losing control. I’ve never had to rely so much on myself and my own inner strength.

4 hours later, we reached the finish line – a little shack serving icy cold coke and local beer for $1. It was only when I lifted my helmet off that I realized how completely exhausted I was, physically and mentally. But the pride and self-respect in my heart…shiok :)

(My friends thought this photo was so hardcore. I had to inform them that I was unable to lift my bike up and a nice German guy had to put his down to help me. Well at least I didn’t drop the bike over the cliff.)

I heard that another girl was crying and shaking throughout her ride. I felt for her but also knew she was on some personal journey of her own, to prove something to herself. Even though she completed the trip far behind the rest of the group, she completed it and I was amazed by her. She said she felt so accomplished and happy (she was crying still!). I later met an English girl who did the ride for her boyfriend – she didn’t want to, but felt she had to go along since he was excited about it. She spent half the time miserable on the bike and the other half of the time sitting inside the bike company’s van with her bike on the roof rack. When I asked if she at least felt positively about it now that it’s over, she cringed her nose and said, “nup, I hated it.”

Conquering this showed me that I could do it…I always could, I just didn’t want to try. It was easier to place my happiness in someone else’s hands so I could blame them when life went south. But then I dove down this terrifying slope, took control, and created my own happiness.

And I have the t-shirt to prove it too ;)

*The “Death Road” is a 70 km dirt track that runs in the Bolivian Andes, and plunges down almost 3,600 meters in an orgy of extremely narrow hairpin curves and 800-meter drops off the sides. Hurtling at 48km/h down its dusty track is now a sought-after thrill for backpackers every day.

It was a warm night. The leaves shuffled gently in the sporadic breeze and the tungsten light barely lit the street. As I peered out of the window, the sight was almost like a dream. I wished it was merely a dream and the torment of the debilitating disease would come to a halt.

Her fists were clenched, shoulders were tensed, and head was tilted backward. She cried in pain and asked for another shot of radioactive iodine. The little teddy, which was bought by us to cheer her up that day, slipped out of her enervated hand. My heart sunk and I prayed under my breath. A stream of tear created a trace down her mother’s wary face. The fan whisked the cool air around us, but failed to alleviate the sombre mood that filled the room. The sunflowers on the side table had withered away.

We stood in silence as the endocrinologist and nurse hurried to the bed to examine her. Shortly after the jab, she began to relax. No amount of words was able to comfort her. Perhaps, I was not certain of what to say to her at that point of time. After the doctor and nurse left, her mother sat by her side and tucked her under the perforated blanket. The nurse reminded us that the visiting hours were over and only family members were allowed to be with the patient. I squeezed the little teddy tightly to her enfeebled palm and told her to rest. My friends spoke some words of comfort and we departed.

The journey back home was particularly quiet. The image of a loved one in pain was daunting. I was perturbed by the idea of loss. I started to wonder what if I lose a friend who has been so dear. What would life be like without her in this group of friends who are so close since young? What impact would it have on me? I tried so hard to shake these thoughts out of my head.

Time flies. It has been years since the last surgery to remove her thyroid. I am glad she is recovering well. Whenever I see the surgical scar below her neck, which resembles almost like a fine necklace, I feel a great sense of relief and fear. Relieve that the critical moment was over, yet fear that I may lose her if the illness relapses. She once told me that she felt disheartened by the fact that she needs to be on life-long medication. I absolutely empathise with her. Who will want to be reliant on medication on such a long time?

I admire her courage and strength to fight the illness. Hitherto she continues to receive treatment without hesitance. Deep down inside, she understands that this is the only way to keep her well. Her smile and jovial disposition persists to light up the spirits in this group of friends. Her darkest time, which has affected me as much, has passed. I hope she remains well and our friendship continues to blossom.

Loss of a loved one is not something that is easy to deal with. In the mist of our busy schedule, we may have forgotten to appreciate our loved ones at times. It is only when they may be about to be away that we realise that we have missed them so much. It is never too much or too late to slow down our pace to tell or show them that we love them.

It’s so easy to let life sweep you along. I’m so bogged down between work, spending time with loved ones, and occupying my free time by watching mind-numbingly addictive serial dramas online (damn you Lost! I gave you all those hours of my youth for nothing!) that weeks can go by before I realize that I never actually spent time with me.

It seems like such a simple, obvious thing. But really, have you spent time with you?

But I find the quiet time to savor a nice meal and be alone with my thoughts quite relaxing, thankyouverymuch.

I find that during these moments, I see the person I’ve been growing into a lot better. I understand better why I did some of the things I did, said some of the things I said, and felt the way I felt.

Maybe you’ll find that what’s inside might be a little dark or tainted. I wish I could say my inner reflection is always cheery and empowering. But the reality is often, it’s plagued by anxieties, guilt, ‘if-only’s, and questions of life and existence that I don’t have the answers to.

So why face them? You might ask.

Because it’s me. If I don’t know me…don’t understand, improve, and ultimately embrace myself first, can I expect others to?

Sure, bullying is so common, I am sure I can easily think of clients or friends who had been bullied before. However, I am surprised that when I start to reflect, I began to recall my childhood days of being bullied by my cousins and the intense feelings that came along with this reflection caught me off guarded. I still remembered how my cousins would ganged up against me, called me names, hid my books, stole my stationeries just so that I would not be able to revise my work. When I became more guarded, they would do the extreme by shouting and playing loudly near to where I study so as to distract my concentration. It didn’t help that when I approached the adults for help, they just brushed it aside as “your cousins didn’t do it on purpose,” or “just ignore them.” Things got so bad, that when I retaliated by shouting back at my cousins, I would usually be the one to receive punishment. I know these sounded absurd, but I doubt I was the only one to go through what the professionals now termed as ‘double victimization’.

Things got better only after when I was old enough to take care of myself and be left alone at home instead of my grandparents’ house after school. Still, I never quite got the support I needed to close the bullying chapter of my life. Slowly, I got over it, partly due to my focus on other priorities in life. But my relationships with my cousins remained superficial. If possible, I would never want to see anyone of them at all. Apart from that, my life has been good without much impact from my past of being bullied…until I attended this bullying course.

It was difficult for me initially because as I tried to follow the course contents, I was also trying to contain the negative feelings that stirred within me. In my line of work, I have always believed that it is always better to resolve an issue before the issue comes back to haunt sometime later. While I also know that taking the first step is tough, I didn’t know it would be that tough.

My past of being bullied has not been resolved entirely, but I felt better by the end of the course as I am now more aware of the different forms that bullying takes on, how bullying originates and the importance of early identification and intervention before the bullying gets out of proportion. Bullying is common, but it does not mean we should take bullying lightly. I hope that with my personal experience, I would be more ready to lend support to clients who were affected by bullying, instead of brushing it aside (like how my caregivers did).

Since young, the fear of loneliness constantly plagues me. Ridiculous as it sounds, I would be fearful that my parents, siblings get into all sorts of accidents, car crash, getting robbed, plane crash, you name it. My overworked imagination will start churning…

My fear of being alone extends to even in school. I would be happy if there were friends around me during recess time and will feel immensely insecure without them. My nightmares would consist of friends not wanting to ‘friend’ me. My thinking then was, if you are alone, you are odd, you stick out in the crowd and everyone will notice it…

Walking in the dark alone was terrifying. I would always ask for family members to accompany me to venture into any of the spaces within my own house at night. I would imagine ghosts lurking in every corner of the rooms; phantoms, monsters, spiders, snakes etc.

The walk in the dark stretches out, seemingly endless. Yet, the mere presence of someone next to you brings comfort, relief and distracts me from the heart-pounding trepidation that creeps up. Though all that, only to get a cup of water from the kitchen just few metres away!

Years later, I am able to walk alone in the dark, albeit a familiar place… if not, leaving a trail of lights

The lesson I’ve learnt is that the fear, hesitation will always be there because what is ahead is always unknown. I may be groping in the dark, stumbling along but I know what matters will be the company. Because there is still the support from kinships, friendships that soothes me throughout a difficult journey.

Don't walk behind me, I may not lead.

Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow.

Just walk beside me and be my friend.

Unknown, (often attributed to Albert Camus)

I would never forget the day when I was walking down the pavement after having attended a counselling session and suddenly I noticed that the surroundings around me becoming brighter, colours appear more vivid and clearer. My footsteps felt lighter and with that came the realization that my mood is lifting.

I then search my memory for how long I had felt otherwise and it dawned on me that I was feeling low for what felt like a long time – (actually… 4 months) since an event that occurred in my family. It felt like there was a heaviness lurking somewhere within me, even while I go on with my daily routine.

This heaviness had closed in on me, festering in me, suffocating me, when I got to know that someone whom I had worked closely with had passed on.

…I'm feeling sad and blue….my life is just a rainy day

There were so much “if only….” and “I should haves…” that came to me during the dark days. An ominous feeling that my once care-free life will never come back to me. I would look at the people in the shopping mall, youths hanging out with their friends,  families pushing babies in their prams with their happy faces and I would ask myself, “Why not me? Is it that difficult a request to be like them?”

I wallowed in self-pity when alone, replaying the things that I might have done that have created the problems that I was facing. “Was it my fault that things occurred that way?”

The lightened sense of being came with new insights of myself and with it, a sense of liberation. Or did it work the other way round? I am not too sure. I started to see the positives around me, the strengths within and the resources outside, the same things that have been with me but appeared so dimmed and far away then. I have heard and witnessed people who have been so affected by their mood that they fall into a trap of a vicious cycle of learned helplessness. Had I felt paralysed during that period? Perhaps. Simple tasks seemed effortful.

 What worked for me? Someone to talk to. Cliché as it sounds, it was to someone who processed the raw emotions and the tangled up bundle in me that had helped. By the end of it all, everything seemed to fall into the right places and loose ends tied up.

Would it help for others? Why not? Give it a shot.

Ever experienced the thrill of freewheeling down a slope. Those childhood days where we used to run up a slope to slide down it. The sensation of the wind in our hair, the smell of the newly cut green grass against our shorts, the glee of mud spraying over our shoes. Yet the most memorable part was the momentum that builds up in one’s tracks as we slide downwards. However, people nowadays are too busy with their lives to pay attention to these little details.

Taken from Non-sequitur http://www.gocomics.com/nonsequitur/

Shawn had hoped to be different from his peers and had aimed to earn his 1st million before the age of 23. Shawn had directed all his attention towards reaching this goal. In life, things never proceed as planned. The business venture failed when one of the business partners ran away with the money. The betrayal led him to find people untrustworthy. His mood was badly affected and he became highly sensitive towards people. He started to suspect that his other friends might have ulterior motives in keeping by his side. On days, he would feel guilty for harbouring such negative notions towards them. Shawn shared that he knew of their good intentions but the thought of betrayal bothered him. His grades deteriorated, as he was unable to concentrate on his studies. He was constantly looking out for people who may want to take advantage of him.

His parents though proud of him felt helpless. They tried all means to encourage him to forget about the past and to focus his attention towards the future. Shawn did not take well to the suggestions. The words of encouragement seemed to take on a life of its own in Shawn’s mind; they felt like double-edged swords, piercing through him as a reminder that he is a lesser person. It made him feel even more pressured and increasingly more irritable.

The next time I met with Shawn after his discharge, I learnt that life was still down for him, as if he was diving down the slope into a bottomless pit. After his discharge, he had tried to put on a brave front but things started to tether especially when he received letters of rejection from employers. In front of his friends he tried to smile yet the sense of emptiness continued to bother him like a plague that never goes away.

Shawn had likened his situation to that of sliding down from the top of a hill. He felt that he was paying for his sins of past where he had neglected his family and chose not to enjoy the company of friends. Looking at Shawn hunched over the seat with a dejected and forlorn appearance made me realize that life can indeed be really fragile. Our sense of self seems to be determined by the world around us.

I hoped that Shawn would find the confidence he once had, to understand that there are people around him that still cared and he should not forsake himself. The journey ahead is indeed a long an arduous one for once we allow ourselves to spiral down it will be difficult to catch hold to anything. Yet, I do believe that the outstretched arms from his family, friends and mental health professionals may be grounding platforms for him to regain a footing in life.

¹Note of interest: Individuals with schizophrenia have problems with metaphorical interpretation. This method was used in the film, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, in order to interrogate McMurphy and to test his mental state. His answer was the following: "It's hard for something to grow on something that's moving."